Scalebound
by ThatFlyingEagle
Summary: The globe is split into two. Blackreach, an evil, dark place ruled by an oppressive King. Dragonoa, a bright icon of cooperation and freedom. Astrid and her friends represent the newest generation of Scalebinders; half human-half dragon hybrids who all come from a single port in Dragonoa. They have made it to Helheim to receive military training, and their first day is rough. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers! This is a oneshot that I wrote almost two years ago and never published. It's an interesting concept, and I just wanted to throw it up. If people like it, I may do a continuation and expansion of it into a multi-chapter fic.**

 **Then again, it might be weird. Who knows?**

 **Let me know in a comment or a PM. Thanks!**

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They had finally made it! The most famous squad of Scalebind fighters to ever come out of Berk had finally made it to the ranks of Helheim, the most coveted and difficult military training academy to gain entrance to in the world. At least, their half of the world. The globe had long ago been split in two, separating two warring empires from each other. The empire of Dragonoa represented the very best of the things that humans wanted in life. Freedom, security, purity, safety, everything one needed to be comfortable in life.

Blackreach was the other empire in the world. Evil men, obsessed with death and blood, seeking honorable deaths above all else. In many cases, people from Blackreach were mutated via blood magic or just sheer black arts, all in the pursuit of creating better and more bloodthirsty warriors. Not much was known about Blackreach other than that; they were terrible killers and their lands were tainted and cursed. That was all one needed to know to join the fight against them.

As the two empires fought for control of the world, military forces were extremely important, and every village, town, city, suburb, even nomad camp sent fighters to the training academies to learn to fight. It was a long process, but Dragonoa had regulated it and created a lifestyle of military protection. Nobody forced you to fight, but anyone who could become a soldier wearing the traditional Dragonoa blue would be respected and treated well throughout the entire empire.

So, young people tried the best they could to become soldiers. Many knew that they weren't cut out for it, and there was no shame in that. At least, that's what the adults knew. Kids were a different story altogether. Those who decided against becoming soldiers were treated as second class by those children who do endeavor for that future. High school was a proving ground, where those who were strong trampled on the weak.

It was a shitty reality, but that's what kept Dragonoa's military strong enough to repel the demons from Blackreach. In Berk, a large port and fortress town near the Atlantic borders, becoming a soldier was everything. It literally became life and death sometimes, because almost everyone who lived there was a soldier, or the descendants of soldiers. Berk had numerous legendary soldiers in the history books of Dragonoa, but none more so than Stoick the Vast. A master of Scalebinding, he led the further incursion into Blackreach territory in history, and yet still he led invasions. He was famous. His son…not so much.

Hiccup they had called him. He was pathetic. Normal people in Dragonoa developed their scales at age six or seven. By twelve, Hiccup hadn't grown any. Many believed that he had some sort of defect, and that he would never be able to summon a weapon. Being the son of the famous Stoick, it made his life very difficult. So difficult in fact, he was driven to run away. A cowardly move, and he was quickly caught. However, they couldn't simply allow his cowardice to go unpunished.

They took him deep into Blackreach territory and left him there. He died quickly. Nobody survives long in Blackreach even with scales, and the disgrace didn't have a single one when they left him there. Astrid used to wonder if it was the right thing to do at the time, but it was something that she forgot about before too long. When the wellbeing of Dragonoa was in question, they had to be firm. Hiccup was going to cause problems if he wasn't punished for being pathetic.

She didn't think about it anymore. The only thing she thought about was the fact that her team, the five bright young teens from Berk, all talented Scalebinders, had been accepted into Helheim, a massive ocean stronghold. There, they would be trained as officers in Dragonoa's military and find glory defending their home. They were a small number because of their nature; Scalebinding was an ability that was quite rare, and only the far northern settlements ever gave birth to children who could Scalebind to their extent.

It was said that thousands of years ago, real dragons used to prowl the world, and that some of them eventually mated with humans in magical ways lost to time. The result of that are those who carry dragonblood inside them. These bloodlines matured across time to create the current evolutionary trait of Scalebind. At young ages, children will grow scales like dragons, and those scales gift them the same magical powers their ancient ancestors got when they intermingled with the dragons.

The magic varied according to what type of Scales were grown. Blue scales, green scales, brown scales, red scales, purple, and every other color imaginable. Experimentation was always the key to discovering ones abilities, but the most common Scalebinders had the same abilities as denoted by their color. Regardless, Scalebinders were powerful, and almost always ended up as commanders and generals in Dragonoa's army.

Astrid and her friends had formed together early on in life and become nigh inseparable as they honed their Scalebinding abilities. Tuffnut and Ruffnut, twins who bore green scales, Fishlegs who bore brown, and Snotlout who bore red. She herself bore blue scales, and together, the five of them had abilities that all complemented each other. It had been a large part in their passing of so many challenges and requirements that allowed them entrance to Helheim.

They arrived at the stronghold, their fur armor setting them apart from soldiers coming in from the mainland. "Look at the size of it…" FIshlegs murmured, the large man staring at the high walls and fortified turrets. "It's no wonder Blackreach has never even attempted to siege Helheim…it's more a mountain than a stronghold."

Snotlout snickered, his eyes instead alighting on some other women landing on another ship from the mainland. "It's a wonderful sight, to be sure." Astrid rolled her eyes as his innuendo struck home. The man was an insatiable womanizer, and it infuriated her how good at it he was. Plus…women from the mainland would be fawning all over him and his fiery red scales. They snaked along his muscled arms and up his neck, stopping at the base of his skull. They went down his body beneath his clothes, and she had never chosen to find out exactly where they spread to under there.

"Let's go. We need to report." She muttered, repositioning her bag on her back as she climbed the stone steps up into the massive mouth of Helheim. Her team followed her, the twins remaining thankfully silent while they walked. Normally, the two of them would be up to all sorts of mischief, doing anything they could to have some fun at her expense.

As they walked, she was silently grateful that, so far, nobody had stopped them to ask about their intended destination. People from the mainland were irritatingly curious of Scalebinders, mainly because they had never seen them before. On top of that, many were threatened by the magic Astrid and her friends wielded. It was dangerous to them, although no Scalebinder would attack another soldier of Dragonoa without provocation.

"Hofferson!" A booming voice called out, stopping nearly the entire procession of new recruits as they all looked up at a balcony, eyeing the ornately armored general who stood there. "You and your team report to the main barrack immediately."

She nodded, knowing the man could see her. She would give no other indication of acknowledgement to the general from here. She was already keenly aware of all the recruits staring at her, murmuring amongst themselves. "Let's go." She muttered sternly to her team. None of them spoke against her, and they quickly wound through the throngs of soldiers to the inner gate. Once through, it opened to a simply massive courtyard, easily a mile long, but perhaps only a quarter mile between the forward and rear walls.

All down the space were training areas, stables, barracks, physical training constructs and numerous other things she couldn't exactly place just yet. In clearly marked areas, the grass gave way to large stairwells that were dig into the very stone that Helheim was built upon, and the lower caverns had their entrances. It was in these caverns that much of fighting force of Helheim was housed. Specially designed and supported, it was rumored that the caverns below the fortress were immune to collapse. She hoped it was true, but she would never place her life on that fact if given a choice.

Nearly two and a half thousand recruits would be filling up the stronghold soon, its previous garrison having graduated and moved on to posts across the globe. The core garrison of Helheim, numbering fifteen hundred strong, never left. They lived in this fortress. The recruits that entered now, twenty five hundred of them, would make up the rest of the garrison space of the stronghold. They would fill vacancies as needed, but realistically, this was their home for the next five years while they trained.

"This place…"

"Yeah, it's huge Fishlegs, we heard that part already," Ruffnut rolled her eyes, a puff of smoke emerging from her nose as she snorted. A direct effect of her dragonblood. Her green scales give her the ability to breathe gas, and gases of different types. Most notably, she can breathe an explosive gas that is set off by her twin Tuffnut, who fires electric bolts from his palms.

"This is even larger than I had heard though," She acquiesced. "Where is this main barrack anyway?"

Astrid pointed straight ahead, at a large turreted building set into the wall on the forward bank. "There. That's where General Cloud is." She wasn't certain that she was right, but her guess was probably right. There were several similar structures in the huge courtyard that looked exactly the same, just smaller, leading her to believe that they were barracks, and that was the main one.

They arrived there quickly after, not speaking much but getting strange looks from the current guardsmen garrisoned there. One of them stepped to block then, but a firm growl from Snotlout had him backpedaling quickly out of their way. Inside the building, which Astrid had correctly guessed as the main barrack, they found General Cloud, standing amongst a group of other officers.

When they had all entered and the door slammed closed, the general turned to observe them. Astrid's sharp eyes flicked to the other officers, seeing if she could identify ranks among them. From what she saw, none of them were above captain. She finally focused on the General, meeting his eyes and holding firm.

"Your father told me you would be coming." The General said, matter-of-factly. "I hope the stories he told me weren't lies."

Astrid shook her head, dropping her bag to the ground in front of her. "I don't know what he told you." She said bluntly, never breaking contact with his eyes.

"He told me that you were the best Scalebinders he'd seen since he and Stoick shattered the Black Veil."

"We are." She replied shortly.

"Somehow I doubt he was telling the truth."

Astrid's eyes narrowed. "What you believe doesn't matter to me."

In response, his eyes narrowed as well, the red orbs shining dangerously. "I see you inherited his lack of respect."

She shrugged. "He told me you would appreciate it."

"I don't."

"Too bad. I'm not here to lick your toes."

He shook his head, a grimace on his face. "I look forward to watching the sergeants here break your disrespectful spirit, brat. Get out of my sight." Astrid wordlessly picked up her bag and left, leading her friends out and heading towards where they were to be garrisoned. Unlike the other recruits, they would be garrisoned above grounds, in nice quarters. Scalebinders were higher power, higher echelon soldiers. They wouldn't be treated like simply grunts.

"I think that went well," Tuffnut snickered. "Now, two generals hate us. Our careers are off to a great start." He was referring to General Mildew, whom they had met in Berk upon leaving for Helheim. In a single fell swoop, they managed to burn his personal ship to cinders, render him bald, and remove two fingers. It was an accident, but the damage was done.

"We don't need the approval of generals," Astrid growled, allowing a bit of a hiss to escape her, indulging her dragonblood a small bit. "We need the approval of Stoick."

Snotlout snorted, a small spurt of flame emerging from the action. "Why do they think they can control us? Everyone knows Scalebinders only answer to Stoick."

Fishlegs scratched a spot on his neck. "We need to obey the generals a little bit, Astrid. We cannot undermine the structure of command here. We are five Scalebinders in a garrison of four thousand."

Ruffnut and Tuffnut pondered together. "How many do you think we could kill if they turned on us?"

Astrid growled at them. "Doesn't matter. Our goal is to get our blues. Then we go and start killing off those monsters from Blackreach." She snapped. She wasn't normally an angry person, but generals irritated her. Pompous idiots who hadn't seen battle for years. More often than not, they sat in their ornate manors and simply enjoyed being rich and in positions of power. It was the commanders who truly garnered respect. Old soldiers who remained on the front lines and declined higher pay and comfortable lives to fight for their home.

Soon, they would start their training. Meaning tomorrow. It would be long, and it would be difficult, but they were strong, and they would graduate. "Get some sleep," She ordered when they reached the third floor of their barracks, where only the five of them would reside in their own rooms. "We start at five tomorrow morning, with Commander Frost, on top of the wall."

XXX

Astrid and the other Scalebinders stood in a cluster, atop one of the mighty turrets of Helheim. It was early enough in the morning that the sun was just barely shedding its rays on the dark sky. Why they were up this early, and literally nobody else was, other than the night guard, wasn't something she was considering. It was well known that Scalebinders were crucial weapons in the Dragonoa army, and they would train and live in entirely different ways than the normal soldiers.

Standing in front of them, and watching the horizon with her steely blue eyes was Commander Frost. She wore leather armor, covered with ringmail, over her entire body. An armored skirt hung around her hips, and steel gauntlets covered her hands, steel boots on her feet. Her platinum blonde hair was braided and hung over her shoulders, where her blue cape was clasped. At her hip, a longsword hung in its scabbard, the hilt decorated with a gold crocus flower, and a strand of stark white horse hairs extended from the pommel.

Commander Frost was shrouded in mystery, as much as she was respected and feared. As a person, nobody really knew where she came from. Nobody had ever claimed to be her family, and nor had anyone ever claimed to know where she had hailed. She herself had never said anything about family or home, so mostly, people left her be on that front. She fought bravely, having led many attacks, and defenses, against Blackreach and its demons.

"What are we doing up here so early?" Snotlout yawned, rolling his muscled shoulders and hearing several cracks.

Commander Frost ignored him, but Astrid didn't. "Shut up and you'll find out, idiot…" She murmured sharply, rolling her eyes at his lazy attitude.

"What? Just wanna know is all…" Snotlout began, and Astrid immediately whirled to pummel him into nothing, but a stark clearing of a throat stopped her. She turned back to find harsh, steel blue eyes glaring at them.

Commander Frost did not look amused. "You five represent the highest level of _recruit_ here. Act like it and shut your mouths while we wait for the sun to rise." She snapped.

"All due respect, Commander," Astrid began, and she thought about stopping when the icy gaze turned on her. She swallowed and pushed on. "What _are_ we doing up here? I was led to believe that we would be doing combat training this morning."

Commander Frost sighed harshly. "You will be. Patience is the first lesson you will learn."

This lasted all of ten minutes before Snotlout began to speak again. "Alright, this is ridi-" He was cut off immediately as Commander Frost took a dagger from her belt and flung it, the action happening so fast that Snotlout couldn't react to it. The blade sank into the center of his thigh, but to his credit, he hardly even grunted.

Commander Frost, looking still unimpressed, walked up to him and ripped the blade out. "Keep your mouth shut. All of you. If I hear another word, the five of you will be on the first ship out of this fortress."

Astrid and the others took her word and quieted, all the way until the day was bright. Then…they continued to stand there through the day. Hour after hour the five of them stood there, watching the horizon. The sun began going down, leaving them staring at a darkening sky. An hour later, and they stood in darkness, cramped, stiff, sore and tired.

Finally, Commander Frost, who had been sleeping on a makeshift cot that she had ordered brought out for her, lit a torch. "Look alive, recruits. Defend yourselves. If you survive the night, good. If not, then you do not deserve to be here anyway. Mark!" She yelled. Astrid and the four others were dumped from the wall into the darkness of massive courtyard.

The entire night was the closest thing that Astrid had ever come to living within a nightmare. In the darkness, they were not alone. _Something_ was there, hunting them. Luckily enough, injuries were not so severe that they would cause death, but not to say the five of them weren't damaged. Astrid herself suffered a harsh slash across her thigh, but she managed to make it through with just that.

She huddled in a corner, blocked on three sides by the main walls and the back corner of the armory. She remained there until the sun began to peek over the walls, and a horn blasted. She limped out of her corner to find the others emerging from similar places, suffering various degrees of injury.

Standing in the middle of the courtyard, draped in black, was a figure that held two swords in its hands. Both had blood dripping from them, and Astrid knew in that moment that this was the person who had hunted them that night. The one they were to survive. Commander Frost stood there as well, looking somewhat pleased.

"Gather round before you get treated for your wounds!" She yelled. Astrid and the other Scalebinders did just that, limping and shuffling to stand together in front of the commander and this person in the black cloak.

Commander Frost waited until they were together to speak. "Good. You all survived the night. This was to give you a glimpse of how things are in Blackreach. It is dark, terrifying, cold, and you might have to go for long periods without sleep or rest of any kind. This man," She gestured to the figure with the swords. "Will be your combat trainer. He is the deadliest agent we have against Blackreach and the terrors there. We all know him only as Night Fury."

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 **Again, let me know what you thought.**

 **Enjoy your day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright! So, I know it has been a long time since I posted the first chapter of this, and I was so surprised by the reception it got. I needed to flesh out a more thorough plot, and then I moved in the middle of everything!**

 **Now I am settled, and I should be able to crank this thing out because, guess what? I'm unemployed currently and looking for a job! Sitting on my ass waiting for interview calls isn't much fun, so hopefully I will keep the writing spark!**

 **Enjoy this chapter! I'm still fleshing out characters and plot points, but if you guys have any requests on other character appearances or you want to see something, please say so! Like I said, the first chapter to this was written over two years ago. This story will be coming out as it is born in my brain. I am more than happy to put things in that you guys think would be cool, so if you have something, by all means leave it in a comment or PM me!**

 **Thank you to all of you who reviewed! I read all of them and I thank you so much!**

 **Enjoy!**

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"Fuck!" Astrid snarled, rising up from the table, gritting her teeth and bracing herself against the pain. The doctor frowned at her and went back to cleaning the wound on her back. Commander Frost stood nearby, a wide smirk on her face as she watched the Scalebinders writhe in pain, having had their asses handed to them once again by Night Fury. Astrid glared at the commander, swearing silently that she would get the last laugh in this battle.

Since that first day, the Scalebinders had been subjected to a constant string of challenges and survival nights, all headed up by Commander Frost and Night Fury. The man was as relentless as he was vicious, and they never knew when he would strike. Sometimes, their training began with Commander Frost simply yelling at them, and Night Fury would suddenly ambush them. Sometimes, they arrived at the training area at dark, and he was waiting for them. Other times, they would arrive to a simple tactics lecture from General Maximus.

"I warned you, Astrid. Running straight at him was a bad plan!" Fishlegs groaned in pain from a nearby table. "He's far too fast for us!"

"I could've caught him!" Snotlout yelled, growling as he sat, getting his back stitched and cleaned.

"None of you could do anything," Commander Frost chuckled. "It's a good lesson to learn for you. Although, after two months, I would think you'd get that through your thick skulls."

Astrid snarled at the doctor when she felt a harsh sting in her back, and the woman shook her head. "Baby…" She said snidely. Astrid hissed, allowing her teeth to show as she gripped the table, cracking the wood that it was made from under her strength. She had been steadily growing more and more stressed and upset with their collective failure to defeat or even land a single fucking blow on Night Fury.

He didn't even seem human. Fighting him was like fighting a shadow on a cloudy, pitch black night, and that shadow was made of water. He moved like he barely touched the ground, fast as wind and strong as…stronger wind!

With the cloak he always wore, it was difficult to discern how big his body was, but it didn't seem that large. Not that it mattered at all. He still kicked their asses regularly. They couldn't prepare either. His combat style changed fluidly to match them, and then at times it was like he had no combat style at all. It was infuriating.

"Rest up, Scalebinders. Tomorrow, we meet atop the east turret, at sun rise." Commander Frost announced, leaving them to the doctors. It was a relentless flow of training, every single day. Scalebinders were blessed with one of the most mythical powers of dragons. Their healing abilities, at least personally, were quite advanced. The slice along her back would be almost healed come tomorrow morning, at least for the important parts; the scar would take longer to fade, but the muscle and flesh would repair itself in time.

The group took another hour to be finished with the doctors, then they went directly to their private barrack, collectively growling and hissing at lingering pains and aches. When they were inside, they sat around a tale, salted jerky being passed amongst them as they began to try and plan. "How can we trap him?" Fishlegs wondered, resting his head on his forearms.

"Is that even possible?" Tuffnut wondered.

"We can do it!" Astrid snapped. "All we need to do is figure out his damned fighting style. Then we can counter it!"

"He doesn't have one!" Ruffnut interjected. As careless as her and her twin brother were, they were combat specialists. Hand to hand, and many different weapons as well made up the most of their forte. "I've seen parts of at least ten different distinct styles, and then parts of something I don't even remotely understand, and then sometimes he just looks like an idiot flailing his arms, and that's when I can get a good look at him."

Snotlout threw back his head, letting go of a frustrated growl. "We can overpower him, I know it!"

Fishlegs shook his head firmly. "No. We tried that. He throttled us. Trying that is too obvious. We have to try something far more technical. More finesse. If we're going to best him; we need to trick him."

Astrid was going to say something, but as soon as she opened her mouth, a chuckle spread into the room, and all the binders turned to the window. Sitting with one leg hanging off, swinging back and forth, was a small woman with red hair. "You would do better asking Commander Frost to marry you," She laughed.

"Who are you!?" Astrid hissed, letting her eyes change momentarily in a show of power. The girl wore the trademark blue cloak of Dragonoa, clasped at her neck with a silver brooch. Black leather made up most of her outfit, with clear blade sheaths sitting at her waist, though they were empty currently. Chainmail cover wrist guards flowed down into fingerless cloth gloves. Thick soled leather boots on her feet completed the ensemble.

"Can the theatrics, Hofferson," The woman smirked as she drew a dagger from seemingly nowhere and began picking her nails. "I run into Blackreach regularly on sabotage runs. You're like a fluffy little teddy compared to the things I see."

Fishlegs put a calming hand on Astrid's shoulder, shaking his head. Monitoring her natural temper was something he had grown to be quite good at over the years. Being a Nadderblood, her temper burned quite hot and it could get them into situations that were unnecessary.

"Again. Who are you? How do you know we would have no luck tricking Night Fury?"

The girl jumped off the sill, sliding the dagger into her sleeve. "My name is Merida. I'm a saboteur. And as for Night Fury…he's the one who gets me in and out of Blackreach."

All of the binders lurched out of their seats, but it was Astrid who spoke first.

"Bullshit."

Merida shrugged playfully. "Believe what you want, Hofferson. I know what the truth is."

Fishlegs stepped up next to Astrid, his dark brown scales imposing as his body was. "You know much about him!?"

To that, Merida laughed. "You aren't serious are you? Nobody knows anything about him." She walked around Fishlegs and snatched up a piece of jerky. "We call him fucking Night Fury! You can't believe that's actually what his name is!"

Astrid shared irritated glances with her partners and friends. "What is your point, Merida?"

She shrugged, chewing on their jerky and flopping into a chair. "Really? I sort of don't have one. Friend of mine asked me to come and lend you rookies some… _insight_. I hear Night Fury has been on the winning side…every time."

"Who told you that?" The twins demanded together.

Merida grinned. "The Spymaster."

Astrid growled under her breathe at the implication. Anna Frost. The head Spymaster for Dragonoa's military forces. She heard a lot about the wives Frost from her father in the months leading up to their time here. Both women were legends in their own right; Commander Frost for her ferocity and success as a battlefield commander, and Spymaster Frost for her unrivaled success at covert operations into Blackreach.

"What _insight_ do you have for us then?" She demanded, narrowed eyes flickering dangerously. She felt like this little spy was only wasting the time they needed to plan strategies to beat Night Fury, and it was not sitting well with her.

Merida finally dropped her grin and looked serious. "Night Fury is something that none of us can even hope to understand. His paths into Blackreach wind deep through the continent. He's seen parts of that evil place that most people never will, even in their nightmares. Don't even begin to think you can beat him, mentally or physically."

Fishlegs chuckled sourly. "Then how are we supposed to best him?"

Merida shook her head. "You don't. You learn. You learn, but you will never win." Without another word, Merida took a two-step leap out on their window onto the lawn outside, scampering off.

They all stared after her in silence, each of them thinking different things about what she'd said. Astrid was awash with prideful insult, vowing that the little spy knew nothing of what they could or couldn't do. Fishlegs was putting serious thought to her words and wondering if maybe she was right. Snotlout wondered what he could do to win a night with the spicy redhead. The twins each were thinking about what styles they could learn from Night Fury if they stopped trying to counter him.

Astrid turned back to her seat and fell into it, growling and vowing that she would never give up trying to beat Night Fury.

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"Results in commanding troops comes from leading by example, instead of by fear or otherwise. Always behave how you want your soldiers to do so." General Maximus rumbled, the large man sitting on a stool atop the eastern turret of Helheim the next day at sun rise. Astrid and the others were well rested, mostly healed and bristling for a chance to battle Night Fury again. So far though, it was appearing that this would be one of the times that they did not see him.

It had been three hours of talk from the old general about commanding troops and inspiring loyalty. Snotlout was clearly bored by it all, slumping in his chair and staring at the cloudless sky. For the most part, it was a sedentary, lifeless lesson, but one that they were supposed to learn and therefore sat through.

Scalebinders were commanders, if only by their natural born abilities, so leading troops were things they would need to learn and hone. By their second year in the fortress, all of them would have inherited a unit of their own to train and turn into personal guard. That was a long, long process and it would begin in the winter of this year.

"General, if I may…" Fishlegs began before launching into a long winded question about something that Astrid was choosing to ignore, her eyes averted elsewhere. Specifically, she had caught sight of something interesting happening on the wall just down from where they sat. Commander Frost stood there, staring out across the ocean at the perpetual wall of blackness, rain and storms that covered Blackreach.

Except she wasn't as she normally was. The armor was weapons were absent. The dominant, commander air that she normally carried was absent. She stood in normal clothes. Cloth pants and a tunic, her hair haphazardly bound in a loose ponytail. She didn't look like a commander from here. She looked like a…person. Not a soldier. Not a fighter. Someone who had normal concerns in life. Someone who…

"Hofferson, what is it about Commander Frost that has you so…struck?"

Astrid flicked her eyes back to him for a moment before looking back over at the commander. "Strange to see her so…normal." She muttered. She was used to the legend of Commander Elsa Frost. The stories of catastrophic ice storms, raining ice shards the size of horses. Of single handedly killing hordes of mutated freaks from Blackreach by herself. Never once had she heard anything that indicated this woman was normal in any way.

General Maximus chuckled. "You know, Hofferson, under normal circumstances, I'd tell you to keep your nose in your own business, but I think this is an important opportunity." He rose from his seat and walked to the edge of the turret, his eyes scanning the horizon. Finally, he spotted something and pointed. "Your dragon eyes are much better than mine, so look there. Just left of that outcrop."

Astrid narrowed her eyes, allowing her more reptilian set to emerge. All scalebinders, just like dragons thousands of years ago, had very good eyesight, at least in daylight. At night, nocturnal dragons enjoy superior vision, but they lose that advantage in the daylight. Astrid's Nadderblood was a daylight breed, thus she could narrow her vision to spot a small ship with a black sail, heading straight North.

"You see it?" The general asked. The others gave various answers, and Snotlout hadn't even looked at all.

"That ship carries three souls aboard. The Spymaster, her right hand, an-"

"Night Fury…" Astrid muttered. She didn't know that the little spy from yesterday was telling the truth about him. Honestly…she had thought it was a lie. Nobody simply runs in and out of Blackreach as they pleased. Apparently…she was wrong.

General Maximus clucked. "Indeed. Now, Commander Frost would probably be angry with me for doing this, but it's more interesting than troop formations. You should all enjoy your vacations as well."

Snotlout perked up at that statement. "Vacations?" Fishlegs and the twins rolled their eyes, and Astrid simply settled for growling. Snotlout was always the first to be lazy, and always the first to try and find the route of least resistance.

"Yes. You see, Night Fury has just departed, on his way to escort the Spymaster into Blackreach for a secret mission."

Astrid turned a slanted eye on him. "For what, exactly?"

The General wagged a finger at her, cocking an eyebrow. "Now, secret wouldn't be secret if I went and told you, would it?"

Fishlegs rumbled a laugh and came to stand on the other side of the general, his massive shoulders dwarfing the older warrior. "You already told us. Secret is out."

The general scoffed as he went back to his folded out stool. "Laughable! Just because you know that the mission is happening doesn't mean you get details!" He sat down with a sigh and waved at them. "Now come back here and sit down so I can tell you what _I_ have been told of it."

Astrid smirked at Fishlegs, the two of them snorting lightly at the general and his dry candidness about secret matters. It wasn't like they were simple soldiers. They were Scalebinders. One day, each of them would lead an entire battalion against Blackreach, and if they survived, they would eventually wear the same fur laden general's mantle that adorned Maximus' shoulders.

They all took more casual seats, the twins electing to lean against the turret wall instead, and Snotlout taking to laying on the floor. Astrid and Fishlegs pulled their seats to sit closer to the general. When they had stopped moving, he sighed. "Used to be that Scalebinders, no matter how long they had been here, were told nearly everything. Things have…changed since King Drago took over."

Astrid hummed in interest. "You dislike the King?"

Maximus waved a hand. "Not at all. He was elected by the Moot. The people chose him. It is he who dislikes Scalebinders."

Snotlout picked his head up, glaring over with a snarl. "He doesn't like us!? Why?"

Astrid wondered as well, though she was more disciplined about the way she responded, remaining quiet instead of blurting out like an idiot. Why would the king not like them? Was it just their generation, or Scalebinders in general? She thought about asking, but figured that Maximus would tell them momentarily. And she was right.

"It isn't you, specifically; it is Scalebinders as a group. The King believes that you control too much power and prestige. He's a man who believes firmly in the strength of all, while Dragonoan tradition and history places much value on the strength of Scalebinders."

"How did he get elected?" Tuffnut wondered from where he stood. "Dragonoa cherishes us. Surely people weren't thrilled with him not liking Scalebinders?"

Astrid looked over and found that Commander Frost had disappeared from the wall top, most likely to run off and get ready to yell at recruits for superficial things. She didn't necessarily understand her concern; if her wife was with Night Fury, then no doubt she was as safe as she could possibly be. Even if she was headed straight for a continent filled with darkness, evil magic, evil creatures and untold other horrors they could only see in their most abysmal nightmares.

"They weren't, but he didn't exactly express 'dislike'. More accurate to say that he supported waiting to see that Scalebinders were absolutely loyal to Dragonoa before including them in literally any and all military operations. I will say this: Stoick and Bjorn are _not_ fervent supporters of the King."

Stoick Haddock, the chief of the Scalebinders of Berk and Bjorn Hofferson. Her father, and a mighty warrior. The two men practically controlled as much power and influence as the King himself, or at least they would if they weren't bound by the Moot. Dragonoa was a republic, and therefor officials were elected by a governing body known as the Moot.

Fifty men and fifty women sat on the Moot. These members represented the fifty main cities, towns and ports of Dragonoa, each one sending one man and one woman to sit on the Moot. Berk had sent Snotlouts father, Spitelout and Lagertha Thorston, the twin's mother. Arendelle port sent, Astrid had discovered through her time at Helheim, Commander Frost's father, Adgar Frost and Gerda Bjorgman.

The Moot held only marginal power in Dragonoa. The voters of any seat could actively remove their representative at _any_ time. The result? Moot members held only the best interests of their people at heart, or they would lose the incredibly honorable position.

"How the hell is he still King, then?" Snotlout growled. "If Berk rebelled, we could probably take half of the country before being even slowed down!"

Fishlegs rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot. Why would we rebel? No sense in that. Besides, Stoick and Bjorn know where their loyalties lie. Maybe they don't like the King, but he isn't all of Dragonoa."

Snotlout spit on the stones beside himself. "So what. King should respect us. Without Scalebinders, the Black Veil would still be standing."

Astrid growled at his words, agreeing with him silently. It wasn't good of her to think this way, but he was right. Twenty years ago, the Black Veil was a massive, artificial fortress constructed by Blackreach, disturbingly close to Dragonoan soil. It was believed to be built deep in the continent, and then sent to the ocean through blood magic. It was a menace, and demons poured towards Dragonoa from it.

Stoick and Bjorn, leading a fleet of a hundred ships, ten dreadnaughts and almost thirty thousand Dragonoan marines, stormed and destroyed the fortress. All veterans of the battle say that had Stoick and Bjorn, the pair of them, not been there, it would have been a catastrophic loss of both life and territory. Nobody ever has said what Stoick and Bjorn did, but for so many to believe it and stand by it, it had to have been amazing.

General Maximus shook his head, tsking. "Shush yourself, boy. It is not our lot to say what the King should and should not do. It is our lot to defend this land with our lives. Now…the mission."

Astrid turned her eyes back to him and focused. This had better be a good explanation, because she wanted to know all about Night Fury if she could. "I was told that Night fury discovered a region of Blackreach that was, for the most part, abandoned. The Spymaster want's to discover if she can place a cache and safehouse there."

Astrid actually let her mouth drop open, and Fishlegs did much the same. She recovered quickly though, coughing twice and covered her mouth. "General…that isn't much of a secret."

He laughed and shrugged, rising from his chair and sauntering off. "Oh well. Seems my old tongue slipped. Enjoy your afternoon, younglings. Take this time to recuperate. When Night Fury returns from his mission, you will resume your training."

"If he returns!" Astrid called, gaining laughs from the other Scalebinders. Maximus stopped and turned to her, a grin on his face and a steely glint in his eye.

"Night Fury _always_ comes back, Hofferson. That is certain."

* * *

 **I'm pretty tired right now, so I haven't proofread this yet. If you see anything glaring, let me know and I'll fix it!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter up!**

 **AN: You guys will see, but just as a forewarning, I am including Dovahzul in this fic. If you are curious as to what that is, it is the dragon language from Skyrim. I investigated using Dragonese in this, but it was a bit too childish for my tastes. This fic has a bit more of a darker, adult feel to it and I feel that Dragonese would have broken the tone.**

 **I will include translations at the end of each chapter for you.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Astrid grunted, hissing as the burn in her muscles intensified, her arms dripping with sweat as they pulled her body up for the hundredth time that hour. It was early afternoon, and the binders were in the middle of a fortress downtime. Twice a week, the entire trainee garrison went into mandatory three hour period of recuperation. While a lot of military hardliners believed it made troops soft, the generals supported it. Far fewer recruits burned out when they had some mandatory downtime so they could recoup, both mentally and physically.

The Scalebinders, however, were not normal people. Dragonblood fueled them, making them stronger, faster and more efficient than average humans. Despite this fact, they were also required to go into the mandatory downtime. Not that it prevented them from doing anything, at least in the voluntary sense. They technically did not have to do anything, as Snotlout so expertly displayed by his snoring in the shade of their barrack, but they were not barred from doing anything either, as Astrid, the Twins and Fishlegs displayed.

Astrid herself worked out, Fishlegs sat nearby reading a text on intelligence gathering and the Twins sparred in the roped ring. Being on a downtime was nice, because obviously there was no Commander Frost lording over them. After such a long time here, six months now, they were used to the Commander and how to act around her.

As a plus, the Commander had also gotten used to them and their moods. Dragonblood made them far more extreme in their emotions, whether that be anger, frustration or anything else. They felt them more acutely and acted on them passionately, so much so that the commander had learned to use those emotions to teach them lessons.

For example. She had taken Snotlout's burning pride and twisted it so much that she had the man writhing around like a hopeless idiot out of egotistic anger. It was a lesson in hubris, and how too much of it can result in them doing things they would never do with a level head. It was a lesson that Astrid had paid close attention to; if there was second to the level of pride Snotlout carried, it was her. She controlled it better than he did, but still; any weakness was still exactly that: a weakness.

She let out a growl as she reached a hundred and twenty five pull ups. She burned, but the burn was a great outlet for frustration. Night Fury still regularly beat them into bleeding piles of flesh. Nothing they had tried even made him flinch. The Commander was all too happy to let him loose on them after the two week long mission into Blackreach. This was compounded by the fact that the mission was a failure, so the Commander was in a particularly irritated mood that day.

Though, Astrid had made a new discovery in her time being Night Fury's whipping post. The man favored, if just barely, his left side. It was a find that had shocked her so deeply that he nearly cut her leg off when she stopped her feint.

She had shared this knowledge with the others, and they had been practically salivating for another attempt at him. He'd been mysteriously absent, and they had heard nothing more of missions into Blackreach. Oddly enough, General Maximus had become their unofficial man on the side with the generals. He apparently knew how much Scalebinders defined Dragonoa and their war against Blackreach.

He was actually fairly critical of the fact that the other generals have given themselves wholly over to King Drago's beliefs. He feels that the blind faith is a bit concerning, but he doesn't mention this is anyone other than the binders. Of course, that was what he'd told them. It could be a slight lie of omission, but that didn't much matter.

Since then, they had grown quite close to the old general. His time with them was often spent discussing more pertinent things than troop formations or other such things. They discussed things that the general knew of Blackreach. Things such as the types of demons and evil creatures that he'd seen in battle. They spoke of magic that he'd borne witness to. Blood sorcerers raising the dead as they fell. Things that they would most likely see themselves when eventually when fighting for their homes.

Pull up two hundred arrived, and now she was tapping her blood for strength. As was always her training method, she would do all she could manage on her normal strength before tapping into the dragonblood. Her scales began to creep across her arms, her eyes flicking to slits as more and more Nadderblood coursed through her, her pull up speed increasing as more magic channeled across her veins into her muscles.

Her blonde hair hardened into a crown of spikes as she crested four hundred, her arms no longer burned as she worked, her teeth sharpening into fangs. Blue scales now covered her arms and the exposed section of her midriff. Her fingers were blue and tipped with claws. The outer sides of her forearms sprouted spines.

From the small of her back grew a slender, lithe tail, spines running the entire length. Her speed was now increasing to dragonlike, and she pulled herself up to seven hundred. Her grunts now all came out as reptilian growls as she pushed herself as hard as she could, rattling of another five hundred pull ups in a few minutes.

"Astrid, relax. You're cracking the bar." Fishlegs laughed from where he sat. Astrid's dragon eyes looked up at the wooden bar she held onto and she noted that in her focus, she had gripped hard enough to crack and splinter it. "And stop changing. People are staring." He added.

Astrid dropped from the bar and sent a feral, fang filled grin at a group of trainee's watching from nearby. With a snort, she blew hot magnesium fire from her nostrils. "I don't care." She hissed, her forked tongue flashing out as she spoke.

Fishlegs laughed. "I don't either, but you don't want to scare them, now do you?"

"Let them be scared."

At this, the large man snorted himself. "Stop being stubborn and go to the table, I brought out new clothes for you."

Astrid cast a glance at the pile of clothing that sit innocuously on the table near the barrack. "How did you know I would need those?"

"You always do when you get on that bar frustrated."

She silently admitted that he was right and mentally closed the channel of magic across her blood. Slowly, her scales receded, her tail vanished, the spikes sank back into her skin, and her eyes flicked back to normal human looking ones. As soon as she finished the change, and she stood in her human skin, as naked as the day she was born, a whistle echoed out.

The young man who had whistled found himself dangling from the furious grip of an angry Fishlegs, the large man holding up the poor whistler by his neck. "Do that again. I dare you." He growled dangerously. The crowd around them watched in shock and awe, some still trying to understand how a man as large as Fishlegs moved as fast as he did. Which, she would admit to herself, was damn quick.

Astrid ignored the event and went about getting dressed, listening in amusement as the gathered men and women ran off in different directions. She crinkled her nose at the distinct smell of urine that emanated from the area, and she grinned at Fishlegs as he sat down again. "You know, you should try to not make them piss themselves. It stinks."

He shrugged. "Oh well. I hate it when they do that though." Astrid smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"Relax. You know I don't care. And I would pummel them myself if need be." She said quietly.

The twins came over to them, sweating and laughing. "They always do though. Maybe you should kill one sometime. Probably make them stop." They snickered.

"Killing one would send the wrong message." He muttered, sinking back into his text. Astrid watched him with a soft smile, knowing that he meant the best. Fishlegs had been her closest friend since they were children. When they were four, she got lost in the forests of Berk along with him. They had been young and stupid, thinking they would find Blackreach and fight demons. They spent the night there, unable to find their way home in the evening twilight.

It was that night that Fishlegs' first scales appeared. Even at four, Berkians had been taught basic survival skills. While they built their shelter, a bear appeared and attacked them. Fishlegs' protecting her, grew his first scales in the act, snapping the bear's neck. When they were found, she discovered that Fishlegs was born with Gronckleblood. He was by far the strongest of them, and the most durable. When his scales come out, nothing could pierce his hide. At least, nothing they had ever experienced could pierce it. He was a natural defender. It was his impulse to defend those around him.

"You two figure out how to expose Night Fury?" Astrid asked, tossing clothes to them. They caught the flying fabric and wiped themselves down.

Ruffnut spoke first. "Yes and no. Obviously, if he's really favoring, then he would have spent hundreds of hours of spar time making sure he couldn't be exposed. So, what we've come up with is a surefire way to force him to show us how he's compensating. Hopefully, if we force that, he'll spill his secret and we can attack it."

Fishlegs closed his book, looking up at them with anticipation in his eyes. "Do tell."

Tuffnut picked it up there. "It's clear that he's faster than we are, but if we attack in pairs, with one floating, then we can force him into a position that will eliminate that speed."

"Hang on," Astrid interjected. "We tried that already. We got sliced up more than roast boar at the Snoggletog feast."

Tuffnut nodded. "True, but this time we know where to attack. Last time, we were just throwing ourselves at him, hoping to win. Now we know where to go."

Fishlegs hummed, a sound Astrid recognized as him coming up with a plan. She watched him for a few moments, seeing him glance over at the snoring fifth member of their squad several times. After a bit, he smirked. "I have an idea."

* * *

Astrid walked with purpose through the halls of Helheim, her visit to the armory one of good results. She had a new battleax made, along with a longsword, and the weapons had been completed. The master smith here lived up to his name, as her weapons were off the utmost quality. Strong steel, balanced and with razor cutting edges. She was quite happy with it. She'd make sure that the others got their choice weapons redone.

They had spent most of the afternoon discussing their plan and they were sure that upon the morning sun, when they had to meet Commander Frost on the main training green, they would be faced with Night Fury. They would be victorious over him finally.

Normally, when she walked these halls, the guards appeared relaxed and at attention. Nothing wrong with them at all. Oddly enough though…these guards appeared on edge. She smelled them sweating through their armor, could sense the tension in the air. Something had happened here recently, and she didn't know what it was. Even the torchlight seemed…subdued.

She slowed down, noting that something was amiss. This was unusual for the wall halls of Helheim. She surveyed around with narrowed eyes as she walked, noting how the guards eyes seemed to flick around as she passed. Her hand found the hilt of the ax strapped to her back as she slowed to a steady step by step. He suspicions were confirmed when, in a nearly active combat stance, the guards did nothing.

She found one whose eyes did not falter. Did not move, but were fixed. Fixed on something behind her…her eyes dropped to his waxed breastplate and the reflection of a dark cloak approaching. She spun, swinging the ax firmly as she did, finding it clanging onto Night Fury's blade as he flipped past her. She rolled away, turning around and releasing a torrent of flames down the hall that Night Fury had gone to.

He leapt and grabbed the top of the gateways that lined the hall, the flames disappearing beneath him. Astrid halted, waiting for him to make his move. Even hanging, he had the high ground, and that was an advantage she would not tempt. He dropped down from his perch, both blades now in his hands and his cloak leaving him still infuriatingly mysterious.

"Back from Blackreach I see," She called, rising to stand straight. "Attacking me alone?"

As usual, he said nothing. In all these months, they had never actually heard his voice. He didn't speak around them. He had to be able to, because he ran missions into Blackreach. Had to speak for that. Astrid narrowed her eyes, knowing what this game was. He was waiting for her to attack so he could react and beat her senseless. Well…she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"What happened with the Spymaster?" She asked, not expecting a reply. "We heard the mission was a failure."

She paced back and forth, liking how he still wasn't moving. Maybe she could get into his head a bit…doubtful, but she could still try. "Can't imagine why that happened. Everything we've been told said that you're infallible. Not true, is it?"

Had her eyes not been sharp, or looking straight at his hand, she would have missed the small twitch the came from it. To her, it was victory. It was progress they had been unable to make in half a year of attempting.

"That why we haven't heard anything else?" She called, pressing her advantage. "King Drago lose faith in you? Tough quota. Fail one mission and you get sidelined. Must suck for someone so…private." She kept her eyes on his hands, gloved as they were, to see if any other signs of victory would come. They didn't.

"Why don't you speak?" She demanded. "You a woman? Dragonoa doesn't care if you have tits or a cock, Night Fury. Say something!" Still nothing. She took a step forward, slowly, trying to get as close as she could to strike at him. Commander Frost told them that _his_ name was Night Fury, but still. The barb from before was just to see if she could shake him.

"We're going to beat you, Night Fury," She hissed, letting her dragonblood emerge. Blue scales began to spread, and the spines grew from her forearms. "You win because we know nothing about you. But that has changed…and you will fall!" She charged forward, flicking her arm forward and firing a side of spines at him, chasing close behind with her ax.

He side stepped the spines and spun, bringing both blades around in a two point strike, forcing her to stop her charge and pick a strike to block, low or high. She chose low, ducking the high strike. She was prepared to press her advantage when he overbalanced, but he surprised her by letting go of the low blade and spinning again, bringing the single blade in a downward slash. She rolled backwards, coming to her feet just in time to catch another cross slash on her ax blade.

She kicked at his feet, pushing forward from her knee at the same time to push Night Fury back. He jumped to avoid her kick, and she thrust out and away with her ax, pushing him off and giving her the space to switch her grip and cut down viciously in an attempt to cleave her cloaked attacker in two. He danced away, flicking his left-hand blade out to nick her shoulder as he passed.

The sharp pain only fueled her, and she spit a short torrent of fire at him, both as an attack and a distraction while she rounded on his right side- where they had decided he would be weak- and swung her ax horizontally, expecting to meet a blade. When she met that resistance, she dropped beneath the block and reverted her grip, aiming to crash the butt of her ax handle into his ribs.

He rolled along the strike, using her own handle to steady the movement, and slammed his cloak covered elbow into the side of her head. Immediately, her vision exploded into spots as she tried to keep her balance. She leapt back and rolled away, trying to regain her vision in the dim torchlight of the hall.

She saw a flash of black and pulled the ax back, throwing it ahead of where she thought the shadow was going, drawing her sword as soon as the ax was out of her hands. She heard the distinct sound of her ax being deflected, clattering to the stones and sliding to a stop. It had done its job, slowing Night Fury down enough that she could regain her splotchy eyesight.

She had to believe that he had injured himself by slamming his elbow into her scale covered head, but that was a thought that fell by the wayside as he rushed her again, coming in low to the ground. Astrid tossed her sword up momentarily, long enough to whip both her arm forward, launching two sets of spikes towards him, one high and one low. He changed direction with quick footwork and came into her from the left side.

She blocked his first strike on her arm spikes, quickly regrown, and caught the second on her blade. When his momentum slowed she snapped her tail out, hoping to catch a foot and trip him, but he surprised her again: the blade she had caught on her arm spikes burst into flame, singing her arm there and slicing through two of the spikes.

Being a Nadderblood, and having the ability to breath magnesium fire as well as shoot and grow spikes from her body had a downside; her scales were among the softest of the Scalebinder world. Her superior firepower left her with scales that weren't resistant to flames and were cut rather easily. At least by well-made bladed weapons and projectiles.

The sudden emergence of flames distracted her enough for Night Fury to spin and bring the unlit blade around, landing cleanly into her right thigh, slicing deep and long; she roared in pain and swung her blade wildly, forcing him to retreat. Her thigh bled heavily, and she knew that tendons had been severed on the slash, which left her with precious few options in terms of offense.

As she kneeled, panting and in pain, Night Fury only stood and watched. She couldn't even heard him breathing hard, if he even was at all. They had never seen anything other than that cloak. For all they knew, he was a familiar of some mage.

She tried to stagger to her feet, but she couldn't and ended up simply flailing. If this cut were any shallower, she would be fine to fight, but that was clearly not the case. Night Fury had never made a move out of impulse or chance. It was all calculated. So, when she looked up to find him standing above her, she growled, ready to breathe fire at him and end this game. Though, as she drew in breathe, she heard him speak.

"Norok…hahkun…vahdin…" He said slowly, gutturally, staring down at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, releasing the breath she'd intended to kill him with. "Wh-"

The pommel of a blade slammed into her head, sending her into the pitch darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Dovahzul for this chapter:**

 **Norok hahkun vahdin - fierce/fiercest ax maiden**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello readers. Apologies for this taking so long. I had a whole boatload of stupid shit that I had to take care of, which in turn left nearly no time for writing. Sorry.**

 **Thank you to those of you who reviewed. I do read and enjoy them.**

 **Enjoy**

* * *

"Are you certain that's what he said?" Fishlegs wondered, pacing back and forth in their barracks. Astrid sat at the table, fuming as she recalled Night Fury and his singular assault on her in the halls. She'd recovered over the past three days, and now she was back with her squad and back to training full bore. It made no sense though. She couldn't figure out why Night Fury had singled her out, and then spoken the first words any of them had received personally.

"Yes!" She reiterated.

"Norok hahkun vahdin…definitely dovahzul…" Fishlegs mumbled.

"Bullshit!" The twins said together, sitting nearby. "Nobody has spoken dovahzul in five hundred years. It's only written. You know what it means, right Fish?" They sometimes spoke in unison. It was weird and irritating.

He shook his head with a slight shrug. "Yes and no. I know that 'norok' means fierce…but the other two words I don't recognize. Not all of original dovahzul is still written. Many words are entirely unknown."

Astrid rose from the table with a snarl. "Are you insinuating that Night Fury is running around with ancient knowledge in his head? I refuse to believe that!" She snapped, pacing like the dragonblood that she was.

Worse yet about all of it was that Commander Frost claimed to have no idea that Night Fury would strike then. So it was something that he did of his own volition…which still left her knowing just as much as she did before it. Nothing. Aggravating.

"Astrid, lets go back to what you said about the fight," Fishlegs suggested. "You said that not only did his sword chip your bone spikes, but he lit it on fire?"

She nodded, holding up with still harsh red expanse of skin she had on her arm. "Yes! Where does someone find a weapon like that?"

Fishlegs wagged a finger in the air. "That is less important than this: we are finding out more about him. That is only progress."

Snotlout scoffed from his seat, a plate full of mutton in front of him. "Whatever. It's unimportant entirely. Eventually, he'll fuck up and we'll be there to take advantage." He declared, scrunching into a thick steak. Astrid glared at him, loathe for his general attitude of uncaring about this. She didn't know why, but fighting and beating Night Fury was nearly _all_ she cared about at the moment. Never before had something given her such a huge challenge.

She was about to lay into the lazy idiot about that attitude when their barrack door was shoved open. The first thing she noted was the shining light that came off of thoroughly polished armor. Standing in the doorway was General Cloud looking, for lack of any other word, furious.

"Hofferson!" He bellowed once the door slammed against the wall.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm right here. Don't have to yell." She replied, paying at least enough respect to him by standing up straight. Snotlout stood up as well, lazily licking his fingers of the sauce that covered his food.

The General glared at her with stern eyes. "Get your squad ready. You all leave today for the North!"

Astrid's interest was immediately consumed. They were leaving the fortress? "Why?" Was all she asked, deciding to keep her sudden interest and excitement a secret. Didn't want the general seeing that she was actually eager for some action.

Cloud's grumpy look didn't fall away. "We have received word that a research station has fallen under attack. You five and teams of ten will go and reinforce the station and prevent any more attacks until a defensive garrison can be arranged and sent."

Their first action as commanding officers! This would be the perfect time to show that they were above and beyond what Dragonoa needed against Blackreach! Astrid grinned, all toothy as she had visions of battling demons. "How long will we be gone?"

"As long as you're needed, Scalebinder," The general growled. "Do not fuck this up. If that research station falls, I swear that you five will be scraping battleship hulls for the rest of your pathetic existences." With that, he spun and left, not even having the decency to close their door. Not that a general would ever close a door that he had come through.

"Well," The twins said in the silence, grins as wide as Astrid's on the face of every single one of them. "Lets get ready!"

* * *

The waves roiled, the sky grey and angry as the teams assembled to head to Norsgaard, the outpost in the north. To better separate who was commanded by whom, each team wore the colors of their Scalebinder. Astrid wore a smug expression of pride as her teams wore the exact same blue that all of them would one day wear as trained soldiers of Dragonoa.

Fishlegs team wore a dark brown, Snotlout's a bright red, Tuffnut yellow and Ruffnut green. They were a colorful bunch, but the binders had chosen the very best they could. All were among the best recruits, and should be fine when they reached the north. All would travel on a single destroyer, apart from the binders, whom would travel naturally.

Despite the bad weather, Astrid and her partners would fly to Norsgaard. The final ability of Scalebinders, and the most iconic – Dragonshift. They could assume the form of their sire species of dragon. It wasn't an ability that made much sense in terms of combat. The change took time, and was in no way possible during the fury of battle. Of course, they could enter battle fully shifted, but they were locked into that form until battle subsided.

In a small pile close by were large packs that contained their weapons, armor and clothes for when they arrived in the north. They would strip down when they changed to save the clothes they currently wore. It was a spectacle that all would watch when it happened, and therefore, the walls and courtyard were full when they prepared.

"Astrid, I think it's time," Fishlegs called, coming over to where she stood with a wide smile. One of the greatest feelings for them was the rush of flying. The unbeatable perspective of the sky. The freedom it provides. Shifting was something Astrid looked forward to each and every day, if she could manage it.

"Perfect." She growled, allowing the magic to flow across her blood. She shed her clothes as the scales began to grow and stretch around her body. Her bones cracked and grew, muscles stretching and folding to accommodate wings. Hollow bones emerged, membranes growing out of them. Her jaw distorted and grew, sharp fangs growing like bony stalactites and stalagmites from it. The tail and spines that was so characteristic of a Deadly Nadder grew from her like an infernal worm.

With a squawk, she spread her wings and roared a torrent of fire into the air, to the awe of the gathered soldiers and the muted applause of a few. With her new dragon eyes, Astrid could easily see General Cloud shaking his head with a frown. She allowed a growl from her belly in amusement at his attempts to pretend like he didn't wish he had the chance to fly.

She glanced over to her team of soldiers and growled at them, nodding her large head at the man she had deemed as her second. He rallied the others and they gathered their supplies together, marching to the docks to board their ship. All around her, the other Scalebinders shifted to giant, biological engines of destruction, roaring and spreading wings as they stretched. Snotlout blew a torrent of flame into the air from his toothy Nightmare maw. The twins, holding easily the most unique change, swung their twin Zippleback heads around grinning madly.

Stomping up beside her was Fishlegs, massive and rotund as a Gronkle, his rock hard hide dappled with stones of various metals. He rumbled lowly as the other teams of human soldiers departed to the docks, carrying everything the fifty five numbered entourage would need in the North.

Astrid squawked back at him, spreading her wings and flapping them several times. The just naturally understood each other while they were shifted, as if the growls and hums and other sounds they made as dragons translated universally to their minds.

"Hofferson!" The yell came out and she turned her draconic visage to the small group walking up to her. As a Nadder, she was one of the smaller dragon species, but nobody could doubt a Nadderbloods ferocity and wild strength. Humans came up to her shoulder, but her fangs could tear one apart, armor or not, in seconds.

"Hurry to Norsgaard," General Cloud commanded flatly. "We will send reinforcements when we are able." He walked off immediately, leaving General Maximus and Commander Frost standing there. The two of them shook their heads at the other general and took more thoughtful stances than the rigid ones the stood in around other leaders.

"You have the right training, Astrid," General Maximus wheezed in the cold air. "You'll be fine. I have faith in you and the others." She, overall, was a tough and unforgiving person to almost anyone and everyone, but Astrid quietly admitted that the man's words brought her an almost childish comfort.

Commander Frost hummed her agreement. "Keep your head, and tell the others the same. Worst thing you can do is lose your focus. Let General Cloud be as stern and irritating as he wants; I'm sending you a regiment as soon as he leaves for the mainland."

Astrid nodded her large head and growled at the other dragons. Commander Frost backed away as they all spread their wings, launching off the ground with mighty pushes of their legs and sweeping flaps of huge wings. Astrid roared in glee as the air whipped past her, feeling the wonderful sensation of being absolutely free in the air, nobody able to command her up here. It didn't matter what was what, she was an individual in the air. She was the master. The mightiest raptor.

The other dragons circled, dove, glided, rolled and played around her, each of them no doubt feeling the same excitement and happiness at being so powerful and free once again. She swept over the walls towards the docks, floating over the ship that would take their teams north while the dragons flew. The troops all glanced up as she flew by, some calling cheers while others chose to silently bear witness to the greatest form of Dragonoa soldier.

The intelligence they had been given regarding what has happened at this research station was perilously thin. It was a bit unusual, but she had reasoned that it was due to the information being as new as a day old. There may literally not be any more info that was pertinent to them at this moment.

After an hour, she was getting impatient with the operation. Why the ship was still moored at the dock was a mystery to her. It appeared that everything they needed was loaded and ready. The troops were mulling about the deck, lounging against the mast or leaning on the banister. Her sharp eyes and sharper yet nose noted at the same time a man coming to stand behind her. From his smell, oily and dank, he worked aboard this ship.

"Commander." She wasn't an actual commander, but being the appointed one in command of this mission granted her the temporary title. She knew that one day, it wouldn't be temporary. She would always been called Commander eventually.

She took two steps to turn and glare at him, her eyes narrowing on the man. He wasn't simply a worker. He had to be the Captain of a ship here in Helheim. Safe assumption that he was the captain of _her_ ship. Her ship that was an hour behind schedule. She growled in acknowledgement of his presence. Shifted Scalebinders could not speak. Nothing to do with ability, but dragon tongues and lips didn't exactly condone speaking.

"I am Eret, son of Eret and Captain of the _Hunter_. We are about to depart. I wanted to report the delay to you personally. There was an issue with supply being stored. We had a deck give way."

A whole deck? Maybe it was simply a hole. Regardless, Astrid growled in irritation. Allowing the magic to pull, she slowly changed back to her human form. It was a pestering sensation, not being able to take off on wings at a moment's urge, but she needed to speak with this captain and ensure that nothing was going to happen to her ship.

When she was finally changed, her back facing him, she grunted. "Cloak. Give." She ordered. A rustle of clothing and the garment was draped onto her shoulders. She grabbed the hem of it and pulled it shut before turning to glare.

"Now what the fuck went wrong?"

Captain Eret held out a calming hand. "Nothing serious. An old set of planks bent and broke when crates were placed on them. The issue has been resolved, new planks installed and reinforced. Lucky too, there was nearly nothing left to repair with."

"What does that mean?" She demanded.

He sighed. "I am not a member of the Dragonoa Fleet. It is luck that I was called to this task. The _Hunter_ is a private transport vessel. I was contracted to deliver materials here, to Helheim. When I heard of the job to take an emergency force North, I offered my ship. Things have not been very lucrative recently."

Astrid snorted. "Your money problems are not my concern. Will the ship sink on this journey?"

He shook his head. "Not a chance. The hull is reinforced ironwood. It won't sink."

Astrid nodded. "Good. Get moving. Norsgaard will not defend itself." She tossed his cloak back to him and immediately began shifting back to her dragon form. The captain stood and watched in awe for a few moments before running back down the slope towards the ship. By the time Astrid had finished the change, the mooring lines were being drawn and the sails unfurled.

The ship plowed through the heavy waves and turned North, gliding through the water with a firm and dogged determination. High above it, flying in formation, the Scalebinders kept a watchful eye west, to where the dark lands of Blackreach loomed in the haze. If the demons have made inroads up North, there was a distinct possibility that they would lay in ambush for reinforcements. The demons were savage and bloodthirsty, not stupid. They had to know that reinforcements would come from Helheim. If they really wanted Norsgaard…they would be waiting for them.

For hours they flew, the ocean having calmed and the winds lightly blowing beneath their wings. So far, nothing had been out of the norm. Even with the grey clouds still hanging like a dreary blanket over the sky, visibility was well far enough to spot any sort of ambush. Nothing was materializing though, and Astrid was fine with that. Occasionally, she would dive down to fly beside the ship to ensure that nothing was amiss, but after a few minutes she would return to the skies.

It was curious. Militarily, there should have been forces all over the seas. Unless the attack was only a brief raid, they should see something coming. Someone waiting for them to delay any reinforcements. But they saw only water, whales and the _Hunter_ , silently pushing North, the sails still full.

They wouldn't reach Norsgaard for another two days. Maybe tomorrow would bring more action to the seas. Maybe she was being too hopeful to find combat so close to Helheim. Oceanic defenses meant nothing to her. Their fire would sink any ship, or ships, that appeared between them and Norsgaard. She growled at the others, signaling that she would take first watch during the coming night. They skated off formation, gliding down to the ship to shift back to human form.

It would be five hours before she was relieved. Lucky for her, she had honed her in flight endurance to the very best she could. She would still be full of strength by the time Fishlegs flew back up. She would enjoy the solitude of the air while she could. The dead night was cool on her back and in her lungs. She flew lower to the seas so she could keep an eye on the ship while most of the crew slept. The skeleton crew that manned the ship during the evening hours knew what to do when something went awry, but other than that they simply sat on crates or barrels, silently throwing dice, carving, or doing whatever it was sailors chose to do in those quiet hours of night.

She herself found this wide open space in the north strange. Everywhere in their world there were islands, small and large, dotting the seas. Even the largest of open oceans had their features. This area, in the farthest northern reaches of the Fang Ocean, was bare. Just flat ocean for as far as they eye could sea at this moment. By mid-day tomorrow, she may be able to just barely see the start of the archipelago that housed Norsgaard, but for now, there was nothing.

She rumbled a growl and shook herself, loving the feel of the cool air between her scales. She was ready and eager to do battle with the dark beings of Blackreach, but at the same time she was worried. She knew that she could last. Knew that she could hold her own against any sort of abomination that came upon them, but she could not say the same for her men. She had trained for years before even having arrived at Helheim, and they had been here for just shy of a year and a half already.

Some of her men may have only had that long to train. Granted, it was Helheim; only the best even got in, but on top of that, a year and a half at the mighty fortress might as well be three years at any other fort on the mainland. She wanted those with her on this mission to live; she would begin to tailor them. To train them to fight alongside a dragon. It was a crucial ability to have, and it would set them apart. She was sure that the others felt the same way, especially the twins. Their ability to breathe gas and detonate it was something that could result in heavy casualties, both friendly and not. Training soldiers to fight alongside them was the difference between life and death.

She heard the buzz of Fishlegs wings before she saw him, but soon, he was flying alongside her, growling and rumbling to her to descend and sleep. She squawked at him a few times, bidding good luck and offering report of what she saw, which was nothing. Once done, she skated off, angling her wings and dropping towards the ship. She saw the wide open area where she would land to change.

The next moment, she was plunging into the freezing waters, something small and black clinging to her, fangs drilled into her rear leg. She snapped her tail to bear, slamming it back and into the creature that attacked her. It let go with a shrill, bubbling shriek as Astrid fought to the surface. With powerful pumps of her wings, she lifted herself away and roared a torrent of flames into the air, the warning signal.

In the new light, she saw a swarm of creatures flying around them, all black like giant bats. The other binders were running out of the ship and changing as they did, troops around them wielding crossbows and covering them while they changed to their dragon forms. Astrid snapped her jaws, easily carving one of the smaller creatures in two as a fireball from above claimed two more, Fishlegs diving straight at them.

Astrid let the pain in her leg fuel her as she brought her tail to bear, firing volleys of spikes into the swarm of beasts. A bright light burst to life as Snotlout lit his entire body into a blazing inferno, illuminating the night and giving line of sight to all, both Scalebinder and human. A huge bolt fired nearby, and Astrid spun to see Eret, son of Eret seated in a large ballistae mounted on the deck, bolts sitting in a large crate next to him and a sailor loading.

She roared again, firing spikes this way and that at the dark creatures. Blackreach would have to do more than send evil bats to kill Scalebinders.

* * *

 **Hope you all enjoyed! I hope I can work faster than I did for this chapter in future.**

 **Just as the disclaimer, if I do abandon this, I will post about it. If you simply haven't heard or nothing has been posted, it just means I cannot find time to write and/or am having issues with the chapter.**

 **Have a good day!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello readers. Apologies for taking so long to update.**

 **This chapter will deepen the plot, and we get our first look at Blackreach.**

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Snow fell lightly on the island of Norsgaard as the ship sailed into the docks. The researchers, bloodied and battered by the surprise assault, greeted them with open arms and pained smiles. The small garrison of troops that had suffered almost three out of every four men dead, helped as best they could to gain the mooring lines and haul the ship into safe port. Astrid, standing on the bow of the ship, surveyed the island with an electric eye, still invigorated by her first kills as a soldier of Dragonoa.

The ambush they had suffered had cost them a small three casualties and only a few minor injuries. Astrid's leg had healed before the next morning, the small fangs of the creature hardly causing enough damage to merit more healing. Those men who had died lay in iron cast caskets, courtesy of Fishlegs, waiting to be brought back to Dragonoa for honorable burials.

Over a short period of time, the ship was secured and supplies offloaded carefully. The cold of the north turned the ocean spray into a thin sheen of slick footing on the already wet wood of the dock, so the soldiers were extremely careful. The supplies they had brought from Helheim might have to last them a long time, depending on how successful Commander Frost was in bringing them reinforcements.

Over an hour passed. Astrid, through quick growls, issued orders that no debriefing or conversation would happen until her troops were secure within the outpost and they had established defenses. After being attacked on the open water, she wanted to take no risks as to what might happen. The other Scalebinders took positions of their own, perched strategically to offer advance warning should any attack come.

When all the forces were arranged as needed, Astrid and the others Binders shifted and met with the lead researcher and garrison captain in the central chamber of the outpost. As they walked through the halls, Astrid had gotten her closest glimpse of the garrison here, and she noted how…ragged they were at the moment. Many of the men had bandages wrapping various limbs and wounds. Few of those bandages were still white, many stained with blood and some yet stained with the normal rigors of life.

They had been told that there was a garrison of at least two hundred here. Astrid counted just short of sixty remaining, and only maybe forty could be slated as fully combat ready. Whatever attack had struck…they were entirely unprepared, and it had taken its toll on them. Some watched them go by, a few standing to salute with the Dragonoa fist to the chest. Some nodded. Others simply seemed to be using all their energy to remain awake and alert.

When they reached the central chamber, the lead researched and the captain sat at a square table, large enough to seat six people on each side. The lead researcher stood up as they entered, a smile on his face.

"Thank the skies you're here," He said in a relieved voice. "We have been walking on egg shells since the attack."

Astrid sat down, a hundred questions rolling through her mind, as the captain spoke up. "I'm sure you have plenty to ask about, Commander. We appreciate the supplies you brought with you."

"It's enough for two weeks for a hundred men. I think we number above that now," Fishlegs commented. "We will have to be intelligent with how it is shared."

"Screw that," Tuffnut remarked. "Astrid, let me and Ruff go hunt. Give us a few hours. We'll bring back as much fish as we can."

Astrid nodded briefly. "Be smart. No games." Ruffnut scoffed as she and her twin nodded, both of then scampering out of the room. Astrid was well aware of their hunting style. Ruffnut gassed nearly anything and everything they could, and the kills were easy after that. They would be quite successful, especially if they found a pod of whales or something similar.

"W-will they really bring back food?"

"Fish. Exclusively," Astrid replied. "But enough to bolster the supplies. Food will not be short. Now, tell me about the attack, Captain..."

"Torborn, and this is Lead Researcher Jurgen," The captain stood up, a grim look on his face. "What a nightmare. It was pitch black that night. The moon blocked by dark clouds from a storm earlier. We…we weren't expecting anything. The last time Blackreach decided Norsgaard needed a visit was nearly fifty years ago. Shit…nobody stationed here was even ten when this island was last attacked."

He began to pace around the table. "The sun had gone down probably an hour before it happened. The man stationed upon the warning tower still hasn't been found. I'd say the beasts took him and dropped him in the ocean…or worse. Nobody heard a thing. They hit the living quarters first. So many died before they could even roll out of bed…the worst way to die."

He went to a table on the side of the room and poured water into a wooden mug, taking a deep drink before filling the mug again. "We scrambled archers as best we could. It was a rough time, because most of the arrow stock is in the watchtower…and it was suicide to go into the open. SO we used up all of our arrows here. We must've killed a hundred…but it hardly seemed like any with how thick the swarm still was."

"Did you keep any of the corpses?" Fishlegs asked from where he stood, a large hand resting on the table as he leaned on it.

The head researcher nodded. "Oh yes."

Fishlegs sent Astrid a questioning look. Astrid picked up on his thoughts immediately. "Snotlout, go fetch the body we managed to keep." She commanded. For once, there were no complaints from him as he left the room.

The researcher and the captain had curious looks on their faces at her words. She allayed them. "We were ambushed on the way here. Same creatures I think. We kept a carcass. I wonder if you can identify them, Jurgen."

"If I was to guess, Commander, I would say they are the same creature. Is it about the size of cow, completely black, reminiscent of a bat?"

Astrid nodded. "Exactly. With small rows of fangs."

Jurgen took in a deep breath. "Then they are the same. We know what they are, at least superficially. We call them Scourge. They live either in large nesting groups or operate as a single colony. They aren't even consciously committed to Blackreach."

Astrid narrowed her eyes as he explained it all to her. "How is that possible?" She demanded.

Jurgen sat down at the table, steepling his hands. "We have hypothesized that warlocks in Blackreach somehow…antagonize or rile up these nesting groups, planting in their minds that the things drawing their ire is somewhere here in Dragonoa. That is really the only explanation we have…"

Fishlegs hummed. "Without being able to study the actual locations of the nesting groups…"

Jurgen nodded. "It is nearly impossible to form a solid explanation for the Scourge."

Snotlout came back in and dropped the cold, dead body of the creature that had attacked them on the table, shaking his shoulder. "That thing's fur is irritating as hell," He grumbled, returning to his seat.

Jurgen chuckled. "It is not fur. These are covered in a coarse hair that, in some places, is turned into sandpaper…" He trailed off, and Astrid could immediately tell that he was hesitant to poke fun at Snotlout, at a Scalebinder. She thought it was humorous enough.

"Idiot," She remarked snidely at him. Snotlout bristled and swore under his breath at her, but the moment passed quickly.

"The point of the matter is, I think what happened here has passed," Jurgen said, clearing his throat loudly. "The ambush you ran into was the Scourge returning home I believe. Hopefully, I am right."

With that, Astrid, Jurgen and Captain Torborn discussed other matters regarding how the rations should be split, how guard duties will be handled, and how rotations will be timed. By the time they were finished, the sun had long since gone below the horizon, and the evening shifts had begun. Ruffnut and Tuffnut came back to the island with a large catch. Several sharks and two large tuna were clasped in their talons.

Astrid was glad to hear that they had found a fairly shallow sea shelf nearby, and that large ocean life thrived near the surface, enough that they could bring in a large catch each day. In that light, she gave them permission to go hunting regularly. They were all too happy to hear that they could go out again, and ran off to find some stupidity to get involved in.

Astrid took first watch, alongside many members of their force. Her first objective was to make sure that this station remained secure. Her second, at this moment, was to give the exhausted troops garrisoned here some well-deserved rest. She and her troops were much fresher than those garrisoned here, and they had suffered far less at the hands of the Scourge.

The night was cold but clear, and visibility extended for a good distance in every direction. Her dragon eyes had much better ability to see in the dark, and although they had been ambushed before, she would be able to spot an approaching enemy easily with the option to look every which way. She sat, in her dragon form, atop the watchtower facing west towards Blackreach, where any real threat would emerge from.

Two men from her squad stood nearby, huddled around a fire that served to keep them warm. She had told them, before shifting, that she needed no accompaniment and they could stay in the lower levels of the tower and sleep. To her surprise, she felt a thrum of pride that they chose to remain above. It was a new feeling for her, to be in command and feel such a connection to the men whom she commanded. She had always felt that, in some way, she would feel indifferent towards people in her command. That humans without the ability to shift would be nothing but fodder to her eyes.

It had turned out to not be true at all. She had only been in command of them for a few days, but already she felt personally responsible for them. She had refused to admit out loud how much losing one of them affected her.

The men behind her greeted someone before returning to their conversation, and momentarily she wondered who had come up. Her first instinct, always, was to seek a smell. A scent. Anything that could give her a clue as to whom was behind her. It was an easy scent; Fishlegs.

"Astrid."

She growled in greeting to him, keeping her eyes on the horizon. They had spent so much time conversing with each other in shifted form that it didn't even matter anymore that she couldn't speak like this. He could understand her growls and sounds as easily as he could if she were in human form and speaking to him.

"I spent some time with Jurgen studying that Scourge corpse. Nothing really came of it, but I think I know how to better fight them in future." He didn't wait for her to answer his talk as he paused to get his breathe. "They have small ear canals. Makes me think that loud noises should overwhelm and confuse them. We should keep it in mind should we ever fight them again."

She growled in approval. This was one of the things that she had always liked about Fishlegs. He was a rare Scalebinder, in that he sought knowledge in all things. He believed that the best way to beat any challenge was to acquire as much knowledge as you could on it. It had actually made her respect him, because her father had always told her that a vicious warrior was dangerous, but a smart warrior was far deadlier.

She growled deep in her belly, a sound that made it clear what she wanted to know. Fishlegs picked up on it immediately. "Snotlout is at the North tower, the twins at the South tower, both sleeping. Snotlout will sit second shift, and the twin's third shift. We have sentries posted every fifty yards on this side and the South side, every hundred yards on the East side. I'm mobile all night long."

She shook her neck and rumbled pointedly. He laughed. "I do better with all night shifts. I can keep myself entertained and awake just fine. Don't be concerned about that."

Astrid grumbled in assent. She wasn't particularly fond of having Fishlegs be awake all night long, but then again, he knew his limits better than anyone else. His penchant for stamina was astounding, even to her, and if he said he could handle it, she wouldn't tell him not to do so. Of the team of Scalebinders, she could safely question Snotlout or the Twins assessment of their own abilities. Fishlegs, she had no question that he knew his limits.

"Have you given more thought to Night Fury? Any clues from your last fight you may have forgotten?"

She rumbled in irritation at him, flaring her spines up in indignation that she may have misplaced any details regarding her one on one fight with the mysterious warrior. Fishlegs only laughed at her. "You know I mean no insult, Astrid. Sometimes, with the fury of battle, one can… _forget_ …details."

She ran through the battle again in her mind. His approach from behind her…the fury of the first few blows…her speaking to him…his sword alighting…they words. It all made sense to her, except the words. They still rang in her ears in the quiet moments, taunting her. What did they mean? Factually, she knew that norok meant fierce…but what did the other words mean? Their education, as they grew up, in dovahzul taught them certain things about it. One of those, is that every phrase contains three parts. Three specific parts that would make up a meaningful statement. So the beginning of _this_ statement was norok…fierce.

She growled angrily as her confusion grew again. Fishlegs was the knowledgeable one of their group and even he wasn't sure what the words meant. On top of _all_ that, nobody spoke dovahzul anymore! Yet this fucking enigma that was Night Fury could! Who is he!? _What_ is he!? It infuriated her that she couldn't figure it out, and it infuriated her that in her ignorance, Night Fury seemed to know _everything_.

What was Commander Frost not telling them about him? She had to know something about the man whom she seemed to command around like a dog. Or maybe not…maybe the other way around…

She bared her fangs and hissed into the night air, allowing her anger to bare through. The men behind her looked over with concern as she spread her wings, seemingly agitated at something. Fishlegs looked over at them and shook his head, signaling for them to remain calm. "Easy there," He mumbled to her. "The men don't know that you aren't going to eat them yet."

She growled, unamused by his words, glaring a large eye at him as she turned her head. He only shrugged. "Don't glare at me. You know I'm right. Anyway, I'm going to continue my rounds. You've got three hours to go."

He walked off slowly into the night, leaving the top of the tower and plunging Astrid and her two men into silence. She sighed inwardly. It would do her no good to spend her time dwelling on something that she could do nothing about. Pointless waste of energy to do that. She huddled down and focused on what she could in this moment. Watching the horizon.

XXX

Lightning cracked and lit up the evil blackness of the valley. Even in her concern driven adrenaline, Commander Frost could hardly keep up. Night Fury moved as fast as a falcon after prey over this harsh terrain. His cloak made him damn near impossible to see as well, even when then bolts lit the darkness. She had spent weeks training for this run through Blackreach, to the new outpost created by her wife, Anna. Night Fury had not been lying when he told her that this would push her to the very limit.

Had it been anyone other than Anna who had gone on this mission, she would not have decided to accompany Night Fury in visiting there. It was a dangerous gamble; she had witnessed things, even in the brief times of murky light that occurred sparsely in this desolate place, horrors beyond her imagining. Blood sorcerers summoning monstrosities of all kind from demonic planes of existence. Already living beasts rampaging across the landscape, all teeth, talons and fangs. A man, cut in half and cursed to live that way, crawling about like an infernal spider, his body pale white and his eyes large and bulbous.

It seemed that nothing good existed in this place. The storm clouds were a constant reminder of the terrible place she ran through, ever spear of lightning lighting up nothing except blood spattered rocks and crevices, trees bent into hideous images of grotesque environment. The smell had long since dulled her nose; the pure smell of sulfur always floated about, along with rot and decaying filth. She could smell nothing that didn't make her cringe, and it only added to the growing despair she felt just by being here.

In a flash of lightning, she noted Night Fury standing at the edge of a long fall off the edge of the path they ran. He knew his way by heart, not even once stopping to search or gather his bearings, so she immediately grew curious. When she came to a stop beside him, heaving in foul air by the lungful, Night Fury lit the smallest of matches.

"You are doing well, Commander," He grated. There were many question that she had about him, his origins, and why he helped Dragonoa, but many of those questions she had long since declared to be pointless in asking. She would never find out anyway. "Only a ten miles to go."

"Ten…" She whispered in the darkness, partially to acknowledge his words and partially to keep her own confidence. "How is it that you know this route so well?" She asked in a desperate attempt to get more time to catch her breath before they set off at the breakneck speed he insisted on.

He paused in the blackness before speaking. "This route, if we carried past the post, would take one to the center of Blackreach. Not the center of the continent…but the _center_ of Blackreach. Where the Demon Lords dwell."

Even in her tired state, Elsa glanced up at where Night Fury would be in shock. "Demon Lords!?"

He hummed. "Yes. The demons that attack you regularly are but foot soldiers for the true monsters."

"Why now?" She asked, narrowing her eyes, though it was pointless in the dark to do so. "You came to Dragonoa just short of a year ago. You and I have worked to train Astrid and the other Scalebinders, but as far as I know, you haven't even considered working with anyone else. What you just told me is more than anyone in Dragonoa has ever known. Why?"

Again he paused, and this pause went far longer than the first. Suddenly, the lightning cracks increased in tempo and ferocity, the blue bolts striking all around them. Night Fury watched the skies, his head pulling one way and the other. Finally, he tapped her once and began running. This time, he went slower, but deliberately checking to make sure she was close behind. "We are going off trail! Keep up!" He yelled over the sudden infernal cacophony thundering down on them.

Despite his slower pace, Night Fury kept her moving for nearly a full hour until she nearly ran into him, paused at the opening of a cave. In the now sustained barrage of lightning, she could easily tell that the cave opening was supposed to be a secret. Night Fury wasted no time on this stop. "Stay quiet, or we're both dead." He muttered, turning and carefully stepping into the tiny crevice that was the opening.

She followed him, thankful that she'd taken his advice and only worn a lightweight leather combat suit. She couldn't imagine trying to make the journey in full armor. As soon as they passed beyond the thin entrance, she narrowed her eyes at the eerie glow that emanated through the rocky passage.

She quietly followed him, silently thankful for the shelter from the foul air, driving wind, lightning and rain. A few times, he would stop and hold up a hand for her to do the same, the two of them waiting in dead quiet. In those moments…she heard it. Chanting. It was low and definitely in a language she had never heard before. Night Fury gently descended a set of what looked like carved rock stairs.

Elsa could see the wall open up before them as they descended, revealing a large cavern, awash with a putrid yellow glow. On the floor stood…what she could only describe as mutated… _people_. They had all sorts of horrible things on their bodies. Some were so blistered that they oozed a constant pus. Some had horns and talons. One had a third eye in his chest. Inside the ring in which they stood, another man writhed, chained to a stone block.

"What is this?" She whispered, trying her best to not retch as the awful stench of this place.

"Watch." Night Fury replied quietly.

She did just that and, as the chanting grew louder, a bloody pool in the middle of a massive glyph painted into the floor, in what she assumed was also blood, began to pulse and churn. She watched in horror as a figure rose from the bloody pond, roaring and splashing blood all over the chanters. In a flash, the monster pounced upon the man on the block, tearing him apart and splattering guts and gore all over the cavern.

Night Fury's hard voice entered her head. "This is why I am here. The denizens of this dark place, of Blackreach, have upset an ancient balance. You command forces that can reset the balance, and I am the hand that will guide you."

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 **Enjoy this. I will try to upload faster.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry it has been so long.**

 **I had some writers block, and then life played like a little bitch and made me have to rewrite a years worth of work for my job. Anyhow.**

 **Enjoy!**

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"How are the supplies holding?" Astrid asked, sitting at the table with Jurgen, Torborn, Eret and Fishlegs. It had been several weeks on the island, and they had literally nothing happen out of the ordinary since they had arrived. Luckily for them, Commander Maximus had arranged for a large resupply ship to come after the first week, and that along with the twin's daily fishing trips, Norsgaard was extremely well stocked. Still, Astrid wanted updates on their supplies. If anything, this was practice at this point.

Eret looked over a sheaf of papers on the table in front of him. "Full to bursting. The men are getting full rations plus more and we still have full larders. I wouldn't see us running out for at least two or three months at this rate. If we cut down to _normal_ rations, I'd say six months."

Astrid nodded, a light smile on her face. As things go, she would say that she was supremely pleased with their first mission assignment as military personnel. Maybe she and the other binders, along with the human squads they had with them, hadn't earned the blues just yet, but they would do just fine.

Jurgen and Torborn had, at this point, completely given Astrid command of the station. Commander Frost had told her that she may have to perform in a second in command role here, but they were more than happy to hand her control. She had taken to it well, at least in her opinion she had, and things were on the uptake here.

"Any word from Helheim?" She asked, glancing over at Fishlegs.

He shook his head. "No. The only messages we have received are supply updates and general attentions…but we have learned that Commander Frost has returned from Blackreach."

Astrid cocked an eyebrow. "We weren't even aware she was in Blackreach to begin with."

"This is true," Fishlegs murmured. "What was she doing there?"

Astrid wanted to take the time to figure it out, but she couldn't do that. It would make no sense, because if Commander Frost went to Blackreach, then undoubtedly Night Fury was involved with it, and he defied all logic and sense. It wouldn't take much for her to simply cast him off as insane, but then again…was he really?

"We don't need to worry about that," Astrid remarked, and she narrowed her eyes at the sidelong glance Fishlegs gave her. He knew that she was dying to know, but he wouldn't question her in front of other people. "Is there anything that needs to be brought to my attention?" She asked the table. When nothing was forthcoming, she nodded with a smile.

"Good. Dismissed." The others all rose from their seats and left the room, spare Fishlegs, still staring at her with an amused look on his face. She glared at him for a full, silent minute before finally cracking.

"Fine! I want to know why Commander Frost was in Blackreach! Happy?" She snarled at him. He only laughed at her, his broad shoulders jerked lightly.

"I didn't say anything," He chuckled.

"Your bastard eyes did," She grumbled. "What do you think about it?"

He shrugged, looking down at the table with a relaxed face. "Doesn't matter. I don't have enough information. If we were still at Helheim we might be able to dig up some intel about it, but we aren't. The only information we have is what is told to us by sailors and messengers. If nobody decides to tell us why, then we can only guess. And your guess is almost as good as mine."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Almost?"

He chuckled again, rising from the table. "I tend to make better guesses than you." Was all he said as he left the room. Astrid glared after him, knowing that she would beat to a pulp any person who spoke to her like that, save Fishlegs. She wasn't particularly vicious or violent, but she was wildly proud and heavily competitive. Nobody was better than her when it came to combat, strategy and cunning…except fucking Night Fury.

Fucking Night Fury.

That is going to be the punchline of her life, she just knew it.

XXX

Perched on the high rocky outcrop, the demon cared little for the salty spray of this world ocean. It was pathetic compared to the acidic oceans of Abyssus which burned away anything that touched them. She had spent millennia preying on the lesser demons of her home, long enough that she had legions of peons who hunted for her now. All that went away, as soon as the foolish black sorcerers of this disgustingly peaceful realm summoned her.

They thought they had summoned some lesser whelp who would bend knee to their every whim. She cared nothing for their idiocy, and she slaughtered them all without a thought. In her fury at even being dragged to this infernal place, she also destroyed the one thing that could have returned her to her realm; the altar at which the blood sacrifice was made. She would need not only more sacrifices, but another fucking altar to do the ritual to open the doorway back to Abyssus.

Which presented her with another problem. She could not open the door. Being a demon, her blood was potently magical, and thus…it contained the wrong energies needed to open a door to return to Abyssus. She would need _humans_ to do it for her, because their blood was inherently pure and untainted. Which was absolutely fucking ridiculous.

She was a demon and she could honestly say that some humans were more diabolical than she was. Anyone who had given life to the ritual that could bring her to this realm _had_ to be diabolical. The amount of blood sacrifice required to tap Abyssus was enormous. Even Baratrum was easier to summon from.

The nature of demonic planes was a sick, deliciously macabre one. Demons were not single beings, but rather swirling capsules of tormented souls. Whoever is the most dominant of those souls eventually takes command of the others, and a demon is born. Those souls come from this world, Terra. So demons are connected to this world and can be summoned by various methods. Powerful spells can do it. Magical anomalies sometimes tear open rifts to either Baratrum of Abyssus. Most often though, terrible humans sacrifice their own kind in blood rituals to open stable doorways to the demon planes.

Abyssus and Baratrum were two such realms. As far as she knew, these were the only two major demon planes. There were smaller, more prison like realms that she'd heard of, but none that she could say produced demons like her. Hyper aggressive and extremely predatory. At least…that was in Abyssus.

The energies of Terra buffeted her from her true power. Had she been in Abyssus, the mountain chamber she'd been summoned in would be nothing but dust, along with the mountain itself. It would be relatively simply to seduce some poor, stupid human to do the work for her. Though she was a demon, she looked like an exceptionally exotic human.

Pale skinned, with yellow eyes and unmarred facial features. Her body, physically, was made of all the things that most attracted these human men. Smooth skin, curvy features, full hips and buttocks and long, toned legs. It was an appearance that she had assumed once she broke free of that cursed mountain. She would need it to successfully seduce someone to help her get out of this horrid realm.

Thus far, all she had run into were more insane mages, shackled demons, wildlife and mutated… _things_. Nobody here was in any position to aid her in getting back to Abyssus. Which left her with one main option…this other kingdom. Or whatever it was. Dragonoa it was called, and as much as she'd heard, it was supposedly a beacon of freedom and equality and blah blah blah. She didn't care about that other stuff, but what she _did_ care about was how pliable kind people were.

She could easily use them to find a way back to Abyssus. Kind people were so easily swayed by a beautiful woman with tears in her eyes. She smiled, her wicked fangs melting down into a straight row of white teeth. She would be home before long. And those poor idiots in Dragonoa would help her get there. And the first step? She had to stir up some trouble.

Nearby was a nest of interesting little creatures. They look like large bats, but with scales and large fangs, comparative to their bodies. The nest was at least a few hundred of them, and she could sense that they were largely territorial beasts. The minds of simple creatures as these were easy to manipulate. In fact, some of the sorcerers she had interrogated, before killing, had told her that they had, on occasion, used magic to send these creatures against the peaceful country across the ocean. Doing the same would rouse little suspicion as to her goals.

She grinned and channeled the foul magic that ran through her veins. The horrible things she sent to those simple creatures began to impact them, slowly churning them into a vicious frenzy. The small creatures, distant ancestors of the mighty dragons that used to rule Terra, began to screech and flap their wings frantically. A huge swarm of them rose from the nest, circling around it in an angry haze of wings, fangs and hissing.

With a final violent shove, she sent the swarm hurtling across the ocean, the creatures practically salivating for the chance to kill something. She shape-shifted into a creature that looked exactly the same and took off, flying with unnatural speed towards the swarm she had dispatched. Once she had caught up with them, she blended in perfectly.

When they made landfall in Dragonoa, she would simply slip away in the commotion. Then, the real fun would begin. Enslaving human minds was far more entertaining than animals.

XXX

Astrid and the other binders stood, sat or leaned in a group on the small beach the Norsgaard played host to on its eastern shore, watching with relaxed eyes the sunrise. It had been months since they had been posted at this research station, and this had quickly become their tradition. Astrid wasn't even sure how they had come to the idea that they all enjoyed watching the sun illuminate the eastern side of the world, Dragonoa.

They had taken their time with training since being put here, seeing as each and every day was now as boring as ever. The first few weeks had been a flurry of activity for them, taking extra watches so the downtrodden and injured could recuperate. All day efforts to solidify damaged fortifications and short stocked supplies. Now though…this little island was a forced to be reckoned with.

Enough supplies filled the deep cellars to last a full year with no resupply. The walls and battlements had been repaired with both dragon iron from Fishlegs belly and stone that had been reshaped and repurposed. The garrison, which had been replenished during their time there, was as strong as ever. Regular training with not only their normal commandant, but also with the Scalebinders had done them well.

As well as all that, the time here had really helped Astrid and the others to settle into their roles as leaders. Their various squads had already begun to show differences based on who their Binder was. Astrids group were the best overall soldiers, mainly because she forces them into all sorts of hard situations when they train.

Fishlegs group were strategists. They approached all their training tactically and methodically. Snotlouts were a group of blithering morons, but they were physically the strongest of all the groups because Snotlout pushed spartan levels of physical strength training.

Ruffnut and Tuffnuts group, together, were quickly turning into weapon masters. Every day, their training was done with a different weapon than before, or a different style. One day was swords. The next day was axes in the opposite hand, the next day was staves and blindfolds. Their group was by far the most entertaining to watch, because some were getting it faster than others, and those who were slower learners often bore the brunt of their pace.

Overall, the mission here had been a success on nearly all fronts, which seemed great…except for the single question that had brought up. What were they actually doing here? It seemed a bit mundane to leave five extremely valuable military assets on some isolated research station in the middle of nowhere, not to mention maybe a waste of resources.

Whenever she thought about it, Astrid's blood began to rise. They had taken to the assignment with enthusiasm, but at this point, six months past since they fought the Scourge, it was becoming a more tedious event. What lesson were they supposed to be learning with this? General Maximus told them to take a lesson from everything they did. She supposed that the exposure to leadership could be the thing…but still.

They had heard nothing from Commander Frost either. General Maximus had sent them updates on important things that pertained to them, but even he had no clue where the Commander was. All he had been told was that she was dispatched on a secret mission to a redacted location. It was the strangest turn of events, but even this had a giving point. And this is where Astrid found herself at an advantage.

Night Fury had not been seen either, and that meant one thing was pretty possible. Commander Frost was with Night Fury in Blackreach. That explanation made so much sense to her, and to the others. Not only had the Spymaster, Commander Frost's wife, gone into Blackreach only shortly before their mission began, but Commander Frost herself said that she would want to go and ensure the safety of her wife in that dark abyss of a place. Of course, they had no idea if she had indeed gone and done that but it made the most sense.

"Reports." She said evenly to her closest friends.

"Training going well," Tuffnut reported. "One injury yesterday. Minor. Three days' rest until full duty resumes." Ruffnut finished.

"Scouting reports tell of no incoming threats so far, but still waiting on a a trio of scouts," Snotlout reported. Somehow, he had come to be the leading person in scouting the surrounding region for any sort of threat similar to the Scourge attack. Astrid had been perfectly content to let him take command there. At least he was taking charge of _something_ , instead of sleeping and complaining all the time.

"No breaks in supply. Food stores full, fresh water full, medicine holding well. Two shipments of bandages and alcohol inbound, should be no more than two days until we receive that." FIshlegs had taken command of general operations, supplies and medical. The group of them had formed an efficient system on Norsgaard. Now…it just fell to why they were still there.

Just as she set about thinking, the bell atop the watchtower rang frantically. Astrid's eyes snapped up immediately, searching through the skies every way she could see. "What's going on!?" She exclaimed, whipping around.

"I don't know!" Snotlout yelled back. "Scouts reported nothing through the night!"

Astrid narrowed her eyes on the tower and, upon seeing the watchman pointing out towards the north, sprang to action. "Ruffnut and Tuffnut, go and put all squads on preparation protocol for ranged engagement! Fishlegs, organize deployment! Snotlout and I will shift and engage if necessary!" She barked.

None of the others said but a word and immediately sprung to their tasks. Within a few minutes, two dragons took to the air above Norsgaard, facing the direction that the tower had warned. Astrid's dragon eyes alighted on what he had seen…and dread spread through her. Plowing through the water towards them was a creature that they had only heard about in legends and stories.

Its huge back played host to a small army of mutated monsters, some of which looked like they were once animals. She could see bearlike creatures, many who looked like boars or something similar, but many of them were clearly once humans. They roared, snarled and screeched, horrible spittle flying every which way as malformed limbs flung about, bearing talons, jagged claws and all manner of other weaponry.

She roared to Snotlout, and the two of them rose high in the sky before tilting, angling themselves for a downward dive towards the beast and the army of monsters atop its back. With a coiling of her wings, Astrid began their dive, her tail coming to bear, ready to fire her tail spines in a rain. Snotlout opened his maw, a torrent of hot fire ready to collapse upon the creature.

Their bodies produced a dull roar as they plummeted through the sky, and Astrid mentally prepared herself for the battle that was about to ensue. With a roar and a hiss, their attacks rained down onto the leviathans back, scattering the monsters in that spot and sending many flying into the water. Astrid's spines punctured into necks, shoulders and what she believed to be backs. It was a first strike, but even flying away she could tell that their combined attack hardly dented the force that rode on the leviathans back.

She cared less about the monster itself than she did about the forces atop its back. The leviathan couldn't get onto the island, and they could take their time with killing it. It was those creatures who would run onto the solid ground and kill those living on it.

She and Snotlout prepared for another pass, rounding each other at the apex of a large arc to go screaming back down towards their target. Again, they pounded the leviathans back with fire and spines, killing many of the mutated creatures on its back, but doing no damage at all to the leviathan, who simply dipped gently beneath the waves when their attacks struck.

On her way to reach attack height again, Astrid checked the island, hoping that they were prepared. Which of course they were. Fishlegs had every strong arm on the shore, behind various earthen battlements that had been restored to their glory of many years past. They were reinforced with iron plates and spikes to deter attackers. These battlements were on every beach circling the island, and he had streamlined response times so that they could be fully complemented at barely a moments notice.

She grinned inwardly, seeing that the entire force was already primed with crossbows and composite bows, ready to engage. She let out a pointed bellow into the air, and even without magic dragons eyes she could see that Fishlegs immediately understood. She roared a second time at Snotlout, signaling that he should continue the harrying attack on the leviathan while she returned to coordinate their defense further.

The beast was coming closer and closer to the island, its lumbering size not allowing it to move with alarming speed, but it would still land soon. She estimated that it would be within crossbow range in but a few minutes, and hopefully the rain and quarrels will even the numbers in their favor. She landed with a billow of dust next to Fishlegs and the Twins, all of whom were prepared.

The twins were clad in their custom created battlegarbs. Light leather, covered in chainmail made from light gronkle iron, which had sheaths for almost twenty different blades, and three spear sheaths on their backs. The two of them carried daggers, short swords, throwing blades, throwing axes, spears and one main sword.

Fishlegs was clad in a thick gronkle iron suit of armor, a full helmet under his left arm and a large Warhammer lay on the ground, his right hand resting on the pommel. He also carried a thick shield on his back and a double headed war axe in the situation that he lose his hammer.

"How many?" Fishlegs asked, glaring out as Snotlout descended in another fiery attack.

Astrid growled lowly in her belly.

"That many, huh?" Tuffnut remarked. "That's nice. What do our forces number?"

"200 strong and ready." Ruffnut replied, rolling her shoulder and grinning. A part of Astrid agreed with her unspoken word. Her excitement at the carnage about to come. Her elation at being part of the single greatest event in life. Being in the center of a battle, where any move could end or save your own or someone else's life. The one time a mortal had full control over life and death. The very closest they could hope to come to the gods who created the worlds.

"We will hold," Fishlegs said firmly. "The men are ready. Let the bastards come. They will crash on this beach, and they will die on this beach," He growled, putting his helmet on his head and clasping it. He hefted the large Warhammer above his head.

"Draw!" He bellowed loudly, letting the magic flow and elevate his voice across the earthen fortifications. Astrid roared loudly, along with Ruffnut and Tuffnut, the magic flowing for all of them and the draconic roars echoing across the island and the water.

"Fire!"

* * *

 **Again, sorry. I'll try harder.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The harsh twang of bows and the whistling of quarrels and arrows followed the call, and the battle had officially begun. Many of the projectiles found marks, in some cases several arrows striking the same targets. Fishlegs watched on with grim analysis and even keeled anticipation.

"Load!" He called again, although he didn't have to. Almost the entire garrison had already done so and were ready.

"Fire!" The whistle went up again, and more missiles that the first volley found marks. Astrid watched carefully, noting that no matter how many of these monsters they killed, it only seemed that their numbers fell in minuscule numbers. Even with Snotlout's constant fiery rain, the enemy did not seem to falter or even shy away.

The leviathan was coming ever closer, now into the shallow waters that led to the beach. The monsters atop its back screamed, roared and hissed, their myriad of deformed limbs waving in a blood lust that could only be attributed to evil magic.

With the rain of both fire and ranged bolts of death, the number on the leviathans back were slowly diminishing…but a further horror was appearing with every second. The shallower the water got, the higher the beast rose, and more hide was revealed to them. It's belly was massive and bulbous, and how it didn't sink, Astrid did not know.

"Fire at will!" Fishlegs bellowed, and the torrent of arrows and bolts changed from a wave after wave assault to a never ending pelting. The forces on the creatures back could do nothing about it either, because, regardless of whether their horrid mutations made them incapable of it, or they simply did not have the equipment, they had no means with which to return fire.

Astrid turned and growled to the twins, and Ruffnut spun around to the soldier attending them, pointing to a leather bag nearby. "Unpack that and be quick about it. Commander is going to shift." By the time she had finished the words, Astrid was already starting to change, her scales beginning to recede, her wings retracting into her back, and the spines sinking back into her skin.

The storm of twanging bows and thunking crossbows didn't diminish as she did, but the noise simply dimmed as her dragon senses reduced to human levels. The twins were ready with various items of clothing and armor for her as her shift finished, and speedily, she was prepared to fight on the ground. Not that she thought she would need to. At this point, the still living forces on the leviathans back numbered maybe less than a full hundred. Simple to handle that when they struck the beach.

She clasped her gronkle iron gauntlets into place as the last piece of preparation she needed and took her battle ax from Ruffnut. "Thanks." She said in gratitude to them. Helping each other with in battle shifts was always something a binder appreciated. Snotlout, having wheeled off of his attacks, landed nearby with a rumble in his belly.

"Shift, Snotlout," She called. "This battle will be over soon," It was a good feeling. Their first real pitched battle, and they'd handily won against a clearly evil foe. It was small, to be sure; nowhere near the size of the Battle of the Black Veil where Stoick had taken victory. Some say there were over a million total combatants on both sides of that battle. Official numbers put it less, more like half of that number, but when people who actually fought there say it, it's hard to discern fact from fiction.

He did so, quickly donning his own armor and arming himself with the equipment that he normally fights with. The shifting to and from dragon form was a process that they had spent many hours streamlining to the most efficient, and safest, process that it could possibly be. If they ever needed to do it in the middle of combat, then they would need to have it be efficient.

"Commander!" The yell went up and all the Scalebinders looked out at the water. The leviathan was still surging towards the island, but all the monsters on its back were either dead, had fallen in the water, or jumped there themselves.

"Victory!" The twins cheered, slapping leather gauntleted hands together in celebration, but Astrid narrowed her eyes.

"Why is that thing still coming here…" She mumbled, glaring out to see if she could find any explanation. She could tell from the motionless form of Fishlegs, right next to her, that he was thinking the same thing. He turned to his left and the trio of soldiers who stood there, still hoisting crossbows.

"Three of you go to the other parts of the island, east, west and south. I want situation reports." He said quietly. Astrid followed his logic immediately. They had mistakenly focused all of their attention on the single leviathan, and he was thinking that maybe there were more out there, coming from different directions while their attention was claimed.

At the same time, the leviathan began to crest even higher in the water, giving them a full view of its ugly maw and large, milky white eyes. With a dull crash, the leviathan ran itself straight up on the beach of the island, the land itself uttering a laden groan as the immense, moist bulk of the sea monster slid up onto it.

Everything went silent, the troops closest to the leviathan back away slowly, led by a lieutenant, bows and crossbows leveled just in case. The adrenaline of the leviathans approach had almost disappeared, now replaced by a somber curiosity. There were dead mutants littering its back. Astrid could see plenty more floating in the water behind. None of it made sense.

Then…and it was just a flash, she heard something. It was like groan…but distant. And it was coming from the leviathan itself. She quietly padded down the earthen battlements, various soldiers parting so she could pass. All of them were silent, weapons at the ready, not moving at all. Well trained from months of being yelled at by Astrid and the other Scalebinders.

As she got closer, she heard it again. A distant echo of something. Her ears strained, even with the magic flowing through her blood expanding her senses. She reached the final battlement at the head of the beach, the soldiers there falling into step behind her, without any orders. A small part of her flared with something that she couldn't exactly place with that.

She got as close as she dare to the beast, its grotesque face looming before her. She spun her ax in her hand, more of a reassuring twitch than a coordinated move. As she got closer to it, the echo rang out again, closer this time. It was strange…what would make such a sound? She took her ax and prodded the bulbous, moist flesh of the beast. As the metal cap on her ax handle pushed into the flesh, something that smelled rotten and old seeped out of its pores.

"What is it, Commander?" One of the soldiers behind her asked. She narrowed her eyes on the skin, backing away slowly, the soldiers moving with her.

"I don't know…but it's dead, I think…" She muttered. It wasn't breathing, or at least she could see no sign of that. No inhale of air. No movement in its sides to indicate breathing. The movement that it was showing before, as it swam into the shore, was gone. It was unmoving. Large, reeking of death, and unmoving.

"Astrid, we should get rid of this thing," Fishlegs said, appearing at her side, his hammer over his shoulder and his helmet under his arm.

She couldn't shake the horrible feeling that this was not over as an event. There had to be more to this than simply a suicidal run at the island. If anything was behind the planning of this, then there was far more, and that is what worried her. There was no way that the mutants on the creatures back could have planned and executed this attack by themselves.

Just as she was going to order the removal of the beast, an alarmed call rang out. "On the water! Two marks!" She and the others ran up the slope again and looked out past the leviathan that had beached itself. Storming towards them were two more leviathans, their backs similarly covered in mutated horrors. Another thing quickly became apparent; these leviathans were moving far faster than the first.

Astrid came to a decision quickly. "To stations! Fire at will! When the first leviathan lands, spearwalls lift and set!" She bellowed out, her grip on her ax tightening as the magic poured through her blood, the first sounds of bows cracking around her. As soon as the first volley went out, the leviathan that had beached itself exploded in a shower of gore, blood and _more_ mutated freaks. Astrid sprinted down the slope, a feral roar coming from a fang filled mouth as her ax sliced through the first of many kills.

XXX

The following hours blended together in an infernal cacophony of battle, screams, roars, blood and death. Astrid lost track of how many she killed. She knew it had to be many, because she doesn't remember a moment where she wasn't fighting in those hours. She didn't know how many landed on Norsgaard, but she did know that none had survived. The leviathans themselves were useless once they beached themselves, and time took care of them.

Even now, in the aftermath of the battle, an official count had yet to be made. Astrid and the other scalebinders, covered in blood and gore as they were, had set to the task of assessing damage and casualties. The soldiers stationed on the island had done well; the spearwalls had done their job with vicious efficiency, holding the pathways further up the beach and preventing the invaders from ascending to attack the archers that continuously peppered them.

The moment when the walls failed came when they were so inundated with the dead that the tips of the spears were no longer able to pierce more targets. Thus, the mutants climbed over their dead brethren to attack further up the beach. In response, Astrid and the scalebinders had separated, each of the taking a separate path and holding it along with their squads.

Fishlegs had held his path so totally that the mutants ended their assault there and moved to the other four. Even these mindless creatures shied away from the large man's complete control of the battlefield. Astrid's team had done well. Only one had perished, and that was in sacrificial heroism to protect two men whom were retreating with injuries.

Snotlout and the Twins had seen tougher luck. Their teams had suffered worse casualties from the harsh press of mutated beasts, Snotlouts getting the worst of all. The twin's team directly benefited from having the both of the hellish fighters with them, nut at the same time, their blatant disregard for defense led to many deaths.

This all came with a large caveat, and a feeling that not only Astrid and the scalebinders felt, but also the human members of their teams. They had won their first battle against Blackreach. As soldiers of Dragonoa, even if they weren't wearing the blue just yet, they had won their first battle. It was a searing feeling, leaving at least Astrid hungry for more.

They would honor the dead, as was tradition. Dying in battle was both a sad event, but a happy event. There was no better way to die in most eyes, and they would spend their time with honor among the gods in Valhalla. Some might call Dragonoa a modern country, and not everyone put full stock in religion, but everyone knew where they dead went.

Astrid sat on a barrel, her body dirty and sore from battle and aiding in the cleanup of the island, watching the second shift work. They had split the cleanup effort in such a way that half of the garrison worked while half rested, in two hour increments. A mug of mead in hand swished as she slowly rotated it. It wasn't nearly as strong as the hefty liquor drank in Berk, but it left a warm sensation on her tongue.

"Commander." She turned at the word, finding two men flanking another woman. All three had bandages in a few spots, bruises and dirt covering them. Soldiers who had fought and survived. "A sail on the water, from the south. Blue."

Astrid nodded. "Probably from Helheim. Accompanied?"

"No," The watch answered. "Alone."

Astrid hummed as she took a drink. With a flick of her eye, she noted the slightly hungry look the trio gave her mug as they stood there. "How long have you worked the watch?" She asked.

The trio looked between themselves. "All night before the battle. The first leviathan appeared a half hour before the end of our shift." The answered, doing well to hide the shake in their voices. Astrid's ears were sharper than human ears though, and she could sense the waver of exhaustion in them.

"Go sleep. I will arrange the next two shifts." She nodded towards that barracks, and almost immediately, all three drooped. The woman smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Commander." Astrid simply nodded as they left. She remained in her spot, quickly arranging a new watch and informing them to keep track of any movement on the water. She finished her break time and resumed helping with the clean-up of the beach. The most time consuming part of this was the removal of the corpses of the many mutated freaks that had attacked them. Their bodies were numerous and heavy, as well as some being so covered in claws and horns and talons that crews had to tie them with rope and drag them away.

Which slowed down the process considerably. They were still many long hours from having the island clear of dead flesh. And so she worked alongside the others to get it there as fast as possible. She was in the middle of yanking dead corpses off one of the spearwalls when a frantic tapping caught her attention. She turned her head to her right to glare at him, only to find that he was staring and point past her head.

She followed his gaze and immediately, her task fell by the wayside as a firm thrum of anger coursed through her. Even on the grim backdrop of the still blood soaked beach, Night Fury and his black cloak stood out ominously. Next to him, Commander Frost looked around the beach, for all purposes looking as grim as the situation looked.

Behind Night Fury and Frost, the other Scalebinders stalked, slowly following the pair, but all of them had their eyes firmly set on Night Fury's back. She met Fishlegs eyes and shook her head, as if knowing that all Snotlout and the twins wanted to do was try and best their trainer.

She swallowed her wish to get a second round after the last humiliating defeat she suffered at Night Fury's hand and resuming pulling off the bodies of horrible creatures from the spearwall. She and the men working with her managed to get another two off by the time Frost cleared her throat nearby.

"Astrid."

"Commander Frost." She answered back icily, her eyes still on Night Fury. She obviously couldn't tell otherwise, but she felt that Night Fury was glaring back at her. "Welcome to Norsgaard."

"What happened here?" The Commander demanded, still looking at the destruction of the beach. Astrid wiped her face, the rough dirt and dried blood on her arm rough against her cheek, and spat into the blood soaked sand.

"We fell under attack early this morning. Three leviathans, each crawling with mutated freaks, beached themselves. The first came alone, and we killed all hostiles before it reach the island. The other two made landfall, and we fought defensive battle. We claimed victory a little over twelve hours ago. Recovery efforts have been underway since." She reported, meeting the Commanders eyes with a stern confidence that came from a mixture of exhaustion and mental fatigue.

Commander Frost nodded. "It would appear so. Congratulations, Astrid. What are your casualties?"

Fishlegs stepped around her to come to Astrid's side. "Currently, forty nine."

"And your full force?"

"Two hundred and thirteen." The Commander searched around her, looking at both the beach itself and the slopes. Many of the soldiers who were working had stopped at this point, none saying anything really, but all watching silently. Astrid wouldn't be surprised if they were more concerned with the black cloaked stranger than Commander Frost.

"It looks like you fought a much greater force…is this true?"

Astrid nodded, her arms remaining motionless at her sides. "Yes."

The Commander crossed her arms on her chest, a short, rare smile gracing her face. "I see. Excellent work, Astrid. This is one of the reasons why you were dispatched here."

Astrid snarled lightly. "One of the reasons? What were the others?"

The Commander shook her head, beckoning with her hand in a waving motion. "Not here. Come; get your troops ready. You depart back for Helheim within the hour."

Astrid narrowed her eyes. "Not yet."

To those words, Frost narrowed her own steely eyes, her entire visage becoming hard. "Excuse me? That was an order, soldier." Astrid noted that she had chosen to not use her name that time. A common ploy that she used when she was attempting to pull rank.

Astrid jerked her head around the beach. "Look at all of this. I am not leaving until we finish the recovery of Norsgaard. I, and my troops, fought side by side with the garrison of this island. We will not leave them now."

She could see the twitch in the Commander's eyes. Frost hated it when people refused her orders, and even more so when Astrid did so. The two of them butted heads more than any of the other Scalebinders, solely because Astrid was the de facto head of their team. Some of their clashes have been vicious, but never resulting in hand to hand combat or anything like that.

"You try my patience, Astrid."

"Your patience is secondary to me, Commander. Aiding in the recovery of soldiers who fought for me comes first." Astrid snapped back at her, growling dangerously. Commander Frost glared at her for another moment and relented.

"Fine. I will be on my ship when you are finished."

She walked off, but the ever silent Night Fury remained, still staring at Astrid. Around him, the Scalebinders slowly moved to encircle, leaving probably ten feet between himself and them. Astrid had to say that if he knew they had circled him, which he undoubtedly did – the bastard seemed to have eyes in the back of his skull – he showed no signs.

"Last time I saw you," She began sourly, growling as she spoke, not seeing any point in containing her hatred of this man. "You had ambushed me in the armory corridor like a coward."

Then it happened. He finally spoke words to them. And words they could understand.

"Cowardice is a notion soaked with foolishness. The strong do what is necessary."

Astrid wanted to cheer, roar, growl and hiss all at once. His voice was thick and deep, but smooth as it emerged from the murk of his cloak. Completely different from when he spoke dovahzul to her in the corridor. The other scalebinders wore grins on their faces, as it would appear that they had somehow won a small victory against Night Fury. Despite that they had won no such thing.

"What is necessary?" Fishlegs asked curiously. "Is there some _necessity_ to you training us? Even the word training is a stretch."

"Indeed. The balance has shifted. _Bonaar Los Mulaag._ Humility is Strength. You will need it in the battles to come. Prepare yourselves, _zeymah ahrk briinah_. Your _mulaag_ shall be tested." With that, he turned and left, not caring to stop as she brushed past Snotlout. The binders watched him go with a mixture of elation, hate and confusion.

"Fishlegs," Ruffnut grumbled. "Any translation on those words?" Astrid looked over at him, expecting an answer. They all learned what Berk still knew of dovahzul in school, but really, they mostly forgot it. Fishlegs was the only one who could readily translate without a book.

He looked at them with an interested look. "He told us the first phrase…and the second... _zeymah ahrk briinah…_ means brothers and sisters."

* * *

 **Sorry this took so long. I hit a long patch of projects and other things for my students. Not much time to write while I grade.**

 **I hope you readers are enjoying the story. I can say that while I might not be the fastest to update, I will never abandon this story. I really like it, and I'm really excited to get further in. I always appreciate reviews!**

 **Have a good Thanksgiving!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello readers. I am sorry that this took so long to get done. My school year was quite the doozy. With things winding down now, I hope that I will be able to write on a more consistent basis. I hope to get one more chapter out before my wedding and honeymoon in June**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

If they had all thought that getting Night Fury to actually talk to them was a victory, then they all quickly regretted it. Once his mouth opened, it never closed, at least when they were training. And this time, his mouth poured a constant stream of how terrible they all were. He even announced where his attacks where coming from and in many situations they still could not defend against him. Since they had left Norsgaard with Commander Frost, their lives had become filled with one thing and one thing only: defending against Night Fury.

And he demolished them. Astrid would even surmise to say that their first months of training, he was hardly trying. His speed was astounding, his strength greater than Fishlegs, and his mental calm unbreakable. He had beaten them to nothing so many times now that Astrid and the others had simply resigned themselves to learning from him as best they could. At least four crewmen had commented that they should be ashamed to lose so badly all the time, and in another time, Astrid would agree. Not anymore.

Losing to him now was the best thing that could happen to them, because now…he _taught_ them. His training was no longer a silent beating that carried no meaning. Now, he was teaching them why he could slap them around like children. Astrid recalled the hefty training she and the other Scalebinders went through under Stoick, and how tough that was. That was so beneficial because they were taught why they failed…and now, it was the same.

Not to say that it wasn't painful and frustrating, because it was. His ruthless lessons were possibly more vicious than they had been in the beginning. He held back no strike. He only barely withdrew from slicing tendons, and arteries. When they were bested, he made sure that they knew it.

"You're too slow!" He growled, slapping a blade along the back of Fishlegs legs, sending the large man to the ground on one knee. "Being as strong as a dragon means nothing if you cannot hit your target!"

Night Fury danced around the retaliatory swing from Fishlegs hammer. In the same move, the large man rolled and drew the war ax, a far lighter weapon than the hammer, and cut hard at the cloaked torso.

Nighty Fury nimbly sprang away, flicking a blade tip out to slice the back of one of the large man's hands. Fishlegs was a master at maintaining his composure though, and all but ignored the strike, instead advancing on the cloaked trainer.

Astrid bit her lip as she watched, knowing what they were seeing and what Fishlegs was thinking were two very different things. He was all about defense. Maybe sometimes that meant an outrageously aggressive offensive first, but Fishlegs was more gauged for a drawn out fight than a quick engagement.

Fishlegs paced calmly, Night Fury across from him doing the same. Astrid had spent much time recently simply watching the spars, analyzing the fights and she thought that she may be on to something. For months, they had agonized over figuring out the style the Night Fury fights with. They had always been taught and trained, by both Stoick and Commander Frost, to fight with a significant style in mind. Though, as she kept watching Night Fury, she continued to be convinced of something new.

He doesn't have a "style" per say…his style is reaction. Reacting to their every move. To their every feint, block, attack, retreat, footing, stance…it all made sense to her. He didn't have a style because he was fast enough to see the action and take an equal and better action himself. She wasn't entirely positive about it, but it made sense. It would explain how he could constantly batter them without showing a full hand.

With a slick gurgle and a muted grunt of pain, she watched Night Fury sink his sword deep into Fishleg's left shoulder. She winced at the sight of it, but immediately changed her thoughts.

Fishleg's face showed no sign of pain or regret, but excitement, and she quickly saw why: when Night Fury spent a split second too close, with his blade sinking through flesh, Fishlegs had clamped his opposite hand on the cloaked man's leg.

For a triumphant moment, Fishlegs had a firm grasp of Night Fury, and he used it well. With a grating roar, he slammed his head into the black hood, and they all got a gratifying crunch and a barely discernable grunt of pain. They cheered for the large member of their squad, but the cheer was short lived.

With a move that, to normal eyes would be too fast to see, Night Fury leaned back and twisted his blade that was still buried into Fishleg's shoulder. The twist anchored him to the large man, and he pulled back, using Fishleg's own momentum against him. He rotated, using the lever of the sword handle to turn Fishlegs body around, slamming him to the dirt. Before another blink, the other blade was pressed dangerously up against Fishleg's bulging neck.

The courtyard where they were training went quiet as both Scalebinders, trainees and guards watched. Night Fury, remained atop Fish, his knees pressed into the man's chest, calmly staring down at him. Finally, he got up.

"Risky. You accepted a wound in order to gain an advantage. However… _kril nuz kah…_ brave but proud. Do not let your confidence that accepting a wound will mean victory."

Slowly, his sword rose and he slapped it against Fishleg's left shoulder. It was slow enough that Fishleg's would have been able to at least block it or move his arm. He didn't.

"You accepted a wound. You struck a blow but… _zu'u lahney…_ I live. Your sacrifice falls in vain, because you now have no use of your left arm." Fishleg's normally calm demeanor twisted into a dark frown. Astrid grit her teeth angrily as, once again, Night Fury comes out on top. The soldiers surrounding them began to disperse as Fishlegs stormed off to lick his wounds.

Night Fury glared around at them, both his swords having disappeared into his cloak. The rest of them glared back at him, all sporting some sort of wounds or scars that were slowly healing from their various bouts with the cloaked man.

"Training is going well. Rest; tomorrow, you leave for the mainland."

"What for?" Astrid demanded.

Night Fury did not answer her as he was already walking away from them. They had learned quickly that chasing him meant nothing; if he did not talk of his own volition, he wasn't going to. Ever. Astrid growled after him and turned to the others, muttering quietly that they should go find Fishlegs. They did not really think that he would need coddling, but they stayed together for a reason.

The group found him quickly, following the direction of other soldiers and trainees about where their Gronkleblood. He sat in front of their barrack, a serene look on his face and his head buried in a book. Astrid shook her head as they walked up to him. Not three minutes ago he looked angry enough to kill someone. Now he was fine. A strange man he was.

"Feeling better I assume?" She remarked as she sat down. The other found seats of their own around the pair. As vicious as each of them could be at all times, with their increased tempers, they always remained together.

"No," Fishlegs muttered. "I am still angry. Reading calms me." He answered shortly, not looking up at her. Astrid nodded in silent acceptance. She, and all the others, knew exactly what kind of anger Fishlegs was referring to. The anger of nearly snatching victory and having it be cruelly torn away.

Ruffnut grumbled, nursing a harsh slice down her back. "Well…fuck Night Fury. Where do you think we're going?"

Fishlegs perked up, his eyes flicking over to Ruff's. "Going?"

She nodded. "After you left. Night Fury told us we're going somewhere on the mainland."

Astrid growled lowly. She despised all this mystery that Night Fury cloaked himself in. They had long since solved the issue of his speech. He was as gruff as Spitelout, Snotlout's father, on his worst day, but as eloquently spoken as a courtier pitching woo at a princess. And he spoke dovahzul...which was another mystery entirely.

Fishlegs hummed to himself. "The mainland...just in time for the Thing." He murmured. Astrid rolled her eyes with a louder growl now. She forgot about that stupid festival. She personally hated it, mainly because she was often part of the official party that went each year from Berk.

The Thing, in Dragonoa, was a yearly festival that celebrated the old ways of government. According to the histories, The Thing was practiced for over two thousand years before the first King was elected. The way they had always been taught, this first King abolished The Thing and established the more official legislature of the Moot.

The people still celebrated the old ways though, and every year, Scalebinders make an appearance. In years past, large numbers of the hybrids had gone, but Astrid was always part of the head party, alongside her father and Stoick. While Fishlegs and the others had enjoyed the parties, the drinking and other delights, she was locked into diplomatic meetings and official ceremonies that prevented her from joining the other young binders.

"Great." She muttered, knowing that in the next few days she would no doubt see the large banners of Berk, signaling the arrival of her father and the Berkian party. Where she would be when that happened was unknown, but it was bound to be. It had been nearly a full year since she last saw Stoick or her father. It would be interesting to see how they assess her progress.

And her sister, Aislid, would be a welcome sight as well. The youngest of the Hofferson brood, Aislid and Astrid were mirror images in personality, but quite different in appearance. Aislid wore her night black hair in a strip along her head. The sides were shaved and the hair atop her skull worn in a single braid that did not reach the base of her neck. She stood tall already, posed to overtake Astrid soon if she kept growing.

When she still lived in Berk, Astrid trained Aislid every day to make sure that the girl would be ready to assume the mantle of Scalebinder. Her scales, the lovely emerald green of Scauldronbloods, made her stand out in a crowd. Astrid wanted to make sure that she would stand out as a fighter as well.

She was strong, which helped. Her scales had come in about the same time as normal, but they came in quicker than others. Aislid could already spit boiling jets of water by the time she was 10. The two girls were very close, especially after their mother died.

"Don't look too bummed," Ruffnut commented. "At least this time we get to wear blues."

There was that. They would come in to this celebration with a bit more fanfare than normal. Scalebinders were respected heavily, even amongst those soldiers who had worn the blues for years longer. It was only a slightly better notion for attending this event. Really, when she thought about it, Astrid was only excited to see Aislid.

Together, her and the other binders spent the rest of the day discussing strategy and formations. Recently, General Maximus had spent more time asking them questions than lecturing, as he had done so much during the first months at Helheim. They found that it was much better a time if they were ready to discuss things with him, rather than say they didn't know.

It was all very academic and not Astrid's speed at all, but she found it necessary. Every soldier knew that a battle could be won with brute strength, but only smart soldiers knew that the same could be achieved with a good strategy, and at far less casualties. Generally speaking, Astrid knew that she and the other binders were destined to be Generals. And they would be the best generals Dragonoa had ever seen.

XXX

Even as he spent time considering all of the different ways that the coming war could take place, Night Fury knew that things were dire. What the bastard necromancers in Blackreach were doing was disrupting the very fabric of this world. The abyssal realms were coming closer to this reality, and he would be damned if he didn't stop it.

He had witnessed many demons be brought into Terra by the black magics and blood rituals found in the deepest caverns of the dark continent, but none compared to what the evidence said. A greater demon had appeared in Terra. It was unmistakable. And the worst was still to come. The demon lords who wield such power in the very center of Blackreach were still only acting through puppets and they were causing havoc.

If the blood mages discovered the secrets hidden in the Ebon Mountains, Terra would be overrun. He knew that the chances of the happening were slim, but still, they could happen. He had to guide these 'Scalebinders' in their training so that they were ready. As much as it might alienate the humans of Dragonoa, the Scalebinders were needed elsewhere to defend this world.

Commander Frost was initially against his purpose, but now, after having personally seen the damnation taking place within Blackreach, she was converted. Night Fury was well aware that the chances of swaying all of Dragonoa to abandon that which they have always considered their task were minimal. He only needed Commander Frost though. She was the direct commander responsible for the Scalebinders.

And by his work, she now knew that the greatest call lay away from the flags and banners of Dragonoa. It was an advantage to have that, because now she could help him guide the Binders to their fates. Dark fates, to be sure, but fates nonetheless.

The door creaked open and his eyes rose, glaring out from his hood. His enchanted cloak maintained the swirling darkness that concealed his appearance, and enabled him to not worry about being discovered. Part of his strength was maintaining a measure of secrecy.

Commander Frost had entered, closing the door gently behind her. She was clad in a simple tunic, her normal boots and armed with a sword. Frost did not go anywhere unarmed, and even in the most subtle of situations always wore at least a sword.

One of the strange intricacies of Commander Frost was her near double life. She was an accomplished commander, with many military honors and victories to her name. Many would call her a vicious fighter and an even more vicious sorceress when it came to ice magic. Meeting her on the battlefield would spell death for any but the most formidable of demons.

In private, she was different. Emotional. Passionate. Caring. Night Fury believed that he had been given a gift with the chance to understand Elsa Frost. Being from Blackreach meant that most humans he had contact with were either dying, dead and reanimated, or corrupted so completely with blood magic that they were deformed beyond saving. Elsa Frost represented, what he thought, the best features of humanity. _Mul ahrk dremsilaar_. Strength and kindness.

Also _smoliin_. Passion. He would not posit that he was a jealous man, with urges toward the basic needs, but Commander Frost was a beautiful woman. Her wife knew this as well, and took it upon herself to remind the commander of that. Night Fury was extremely observant, and he quite often noted the signs of an aggressive love life.

Tonight was no different. When the Spymaster returned from missions, it was no mystery why she and the Commander disappeared for many hours at a time. The clear evidence of this physical interaction sat, dark and bold, upon the Commanders neck. Night Fury would never comment upon it. It was good for people to embrace their lovers in these dark times.

"The mainland trip seems unnecessary." He stated flatly. Where he was from, festivals were a waste of time. Not to mention there was nothing to celebrate in Blackreach.

Commander Frost shook her head. "The Thing is an ancient and sacred festival. The Scalebinders would be ostracized if they did not attend."

Night Fury grunted. He figured that this would be the case. He had to find a way to continue their training while on this trip. They were making great progress, though he would never tell them. Fishlegs headbutting him was a wakeup call. They were learning slowly, but they were learning. He did not enjoy that Fishlegs had willingly accepted an injury to gain a small advantage, but the notion was admirable.

Being ready to sacrifice oneself for victory is a lesson they must learn. It was important to everything that they would one day do for this world.

"I hope you understand, Night Fury," Commander Frost began. "While I understand your goals, and I suppose they are mine as well, there are intangibles here that you will need to contend with. The Thing is one of those intangibles."

"Explain yourself." He grunted.

The Commander's eyes hardened hotly for a moment before they resumed their normal scowl. Night Fury was keenly aware that he irritated the Commander with his brusqueness at times. A small part of him enjoyed it. Another part of him wished that she would try to make him stop. A battle against her would be... _morokai_. Glorious.

"There are things that they will be expected to do that, tactically and militarily, make no sense. Scalebinders are as much physical warriors and soldiers as they are symbolic. The Scalebinder in Dragonoa represents strength, victory and above all, resistance against Blackreach."

Night Fury ushered a long sigh. "So you say that this... _Thing_ is not the only useless event they will be required to attend?"

Frost smirked at him. "Not in the slightest. You better hope the King doesn't get married. That sort of thing will tie up _months_ of time."

Night Fury glanced up. "Surely you lie?" He asked in disbelief. He might be from the wild lands of Blackreach, but even he knew what marriage was.

Frost only smiled wider. "Not at all. The King being married will bring half the country to the capital, and the Scalebinders will be required to learn full ceremonial battle techniques to reenact famous battles from our history. It would take many, many weeks." She grinned. Night Fury only glared at her from the darkness of his cloak. She was enjoying this.

He finally looked away from her. "I will hope that such a calamity never comes to pass."

"Me too," She said with a grimace. "King Drago is our king and I swore fealty to him just like everyone else but...he hasn't been the greatest leader."

Night Fury looked up in interest. People in the country, at least those whom he had met, were almost fanatically faithful to their king. The commander's words surprised him. "You think he needs to be replaced?" He asked roughly, looking back down at the map of Dragonoa, plotting the course to the location of this _Thing_.

Elsa waved her hands in front of her face. "Nothing so drastic no. He is King, lawfully elected by the Moot. What I think is that he takes less of an interest in governing the country as he does with enjoying himself."

Night Fury gave a quick, quiet snort. "An unpopular opinion of the esteemed royal."

Elsa scoffed. "He is no royal."

At this, Night Fury stopped his planning and crossed his arms. "Commander. That is quite the statement. Correct me if I am wrong, but you just uttered treason."

The woman glared back at him for a full, tense minute before pulling her gaze away. "For years I have kept quiet about the king and his lack of care for this country. With what you showed me in Blackreach…" She visibly shuddered, and an inner part of Night Fury panged with a slight sense of guilt at what he had shown to her. "I somehow do not care about the king any longer."

"What would you do, then?" Night Fury asked, his posture hard and his unseen eyes even harder. "What would you do, if you were forced to choose?"

Elsa only narrowed her eyes. "Choose between what?"

"Serving your king or serving the world?"

"The world...the world needs to survive in order for the king to live, right?" She grimaced as she said the words. Night Fury knew that it pained her to say it. Commander Frost had sworn her life to the king, but eventually, she would have to choose.

Night Fury nodded slowly, despite that she was not looking at him. Her resolve was strong and he would be able to use that. Terra was at stake. The cosmic threads that make up this world were shaking under the weight of the evil being poured into it.

The world needed saving. He would lead the charge. The _Vulon Relahmik_ demanded it.

* * *

 **With summer coming up, I should be able to write a lot more.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello readers. Super apologies for how long this took to get out. My life has been going through plenty of changes recently and I found that I just didn't have the energy to write. Things have gotten a bit more stable now. I said in the very first chapter of this story that I would never abandon it. I will hold true to that. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **XXX**

Even with the horn blowing in the wind, the cries of fury and blood rang in her ears as Astrid cleaved through a snarling, drooling mutant. The creatures blood splattered the ground at her feet, but she couldn't even spare a thought to her footing as another creature leaped towards her.

The ship from Helheim had been sailing on clear water and skies for a full two days before reaching Utemsfjord, the port of call closest to Hallheim. Everyone on the ship had been on relatively high spirits, at least that was until they came closer to the port.

It was empty. Busy ports could sometimes be quiet, but never empty. Utemsfjord was entirely empty. No people. No sounds. No nothing. Just silence, and silence that comes with death. Astrid and the others had taken small squads into the port to see what they could find out. When they first landed, the mutants burst from the buildings.

"Astrid!" Fishlegs yelled, his Warhammer crushing a mutant's leg and send it howling to the ground. "Reinforcements inbound from the ship! I would say ten minutes!" He pointed past her to the bay, and the pack of landing craft floating between the large warship and the stone piers of the port.

She sliced a slavering beast in two as it ran at her and evaluated their situation. The number of mutants pouring from the buildings, by her count, was dwindling. Slowly, but surely. They had sustained a few casualties since the beginning of the skirmish, but they were headed for more if those reinforcements did not land soon.

The streets of the port all converged on this square, right before the piers were opened. Astrid, the Scalebinders and their teams had landed on those piers, which left them now being squeezed between the mutants and the sea.

"Twins! We need some relief!" Astrid screamed over at them as she saw one of her sergeant's blood spray as a mutant sank jagged teeth into his neck. In the next thirty seconds, the man was devoured by the monsters, six or seven of the creatures piling in to get what flesh they could.

The two weapon masters grinned at each other and sheathed their swords. Astrid cringed at the thought of the crusted demonic blood on the precious steel, but the twins understood more the value of lives of troops than the wellbeing of steel. They drew long spears each and ran at the wall of mutants, planting the butts into the ground and vaulting over the line.

When the pair landed, they went back to back and began to turn, their leaf bladed spears cutting and stabbing with such speed and ferocity that it stemmed the tide of mutants at the human soldiers. Astrid spun on her heel and headed down towards where her troops had set a perimeter.

"Commander! Casualties up to thirteen!" A lieutenant reported as she walked by. "Six are wounded beyond combat and being treated!"

She nodded, if only just. "Good. Ensure that they are well protected. We are approaching victo-" Her words slowed and stopped, as did much of the action going on around her. She turned to find that the vast majority of the mutants were stopping their press, instead hanging back about fifteen feet from her front line.

She sprinted back to the front, pushing through her troops and glaring at the beasts. Why did they stop attacking? Nothing had changed about their countenance…still bloody, oozing, slobbering monsters. Only now they were just standing there, watching them.

A heavy thud next to her signaled Fishlegs heavy hammer hitting the cobblestone street. "What are they doing?" He whispered.

Astrid couldn't answer his question with any more than an agreeing hum. She took an experimental step forward…and the mutants did nothing. Even with the odd behavior, Astrid had a moment to actually look at them…and the things she found did not set her at ease.

These things had tatters of clothing, and even vague resemblances of faces mixed into the horrid, oozing flesh and bulbous growths. Were these the people of Utemsfjord!? She couldn't imagine what sort of terrible magic had been present here.

As if reading her mind, another presence arrived on her side. Night Fury and his dark cloak were as silent as they grave on his approach, but his voice rang loud in the near silent battlefield. "This is Blackreach magic…blood magic."

Astrid growled. "Are you saying that there is a warlock or necromancer here?" She demanded. She, like most of Dragonoa, knew very little of what went on in that dark place. Night Fury though…he had plenty of experience, and it was experience she intended to draw on.

He hummed a gravelly assent. "A _Sos Kro_ , to be specific. A blood warlock. Someone who specializes in perverting natural beings into slavering beasts. These were once your people. They are now… _Diil_."

He elaborated no more, and so Astrid nudged Fishlegs. He sighed. "Diil means…undead."

Night Fury chose then to continue. "They were slaughtered, and then reanimated into the creatures they are now. It is… _krosis_. Unfortunate."

Astrid glared over at him. "Why is that? Because our people dying is an inconvenience for you!?" She snapped.

Night Fury only looked back at her. "No. Unfortunate because you must now kill your own people. I feel for your… _sosaal_. Your suffering."

Astrid ignored the man, choosing to spend her time finding out why the mutants stopped their attack and now watched, silently. Even their malicious growling had ceased. The other binders had joined them during Astrid's discussion with Night Fury, and the group of them stood ready. After several minutes of nothing, Astrid gestured behind her. A sergeant ran up to stand just behind her.

She turned to him. "Quickly and quietly. Move all the wounded to the piers. We don't know when the attack will resume. Take this chance to prepare."

He offered a quick salute and ran off, spreading the word as silently as he could. With only the barest of noises, her soldiers began to move, taking men and women in sets of five to the piers to await the arrival of relief ships. The entire operation went smoothly, and still, fifteen minutes after the fighting stopped, both sides had not made any move to attack.

"What is happening here?" Snotlout whispered, on edge as the rest of them were.

Almost as soon as the last word was out of his mouth, a blood chilling scream ripped through the air. Everyone covered their ears, Astrid and the other binders included. Night Fury himself glared up at the corner windows of a building, suddenly lit by a sickeningly green glow. When the loud scream ended finally, Astrid glared at the location.

"What is that?" She growled, sensing that this was going to get bloody, and quickly.

"Demon magic." Was all he replied with, and Astrid noted that his hands had disappeared into the folds of his cloak. Grasping at his swords, most likely. Which meant nothing good for them. If he was planning on fighting…it could only mean the worst.

Suddenly, the outer walls of that entire building shattered in an ear deafening blast. The mutants surrounding them suddenly turned an eerie hue of blue and, in a shocking sight, started melting. The soldiers reacted with varying levels of disgust as the bloody streets became a river of blood, guts and other horrid fluids.

In a large splash, something landed into the torrent of crimson fluids. As it rose to a standing position, Astrid's eyes narrowed, even as a sickening feeling spread through her stomach. It stood at least seven to eight feet tall. Its arms were built thickly and covered in a white, hard looking substance that Astrid was positive was bone. Those thick arm came down into large hands with long fingers. Its wrist was wholly taken up by one of the more alarming of its features: long, pointed pieces of bone that came down into razor tips.

The legs were equally large and covered in bone pieces, its feet containing only two toes. Both equipped with large spikes, similar to those on its wrists. The face was the most horrific features. The entire thing was an amalgam of terrible, nightmarish features. Four eyes sat above a large, fang filled maw. There was no nose that she could see, and only the tiniest of holes where ears would be. This monster had no lips, so it stood with an eternal, fang filled grin.

"Astrid," For the first time, she thought that she might hear something akin to doubt in Night Furies voice. "You need to gather yourself, your binders and the troops and get them either back to the ships or out of the port." He said, drawing both of his blades and stepping back into a combat stance.

She snarled at him. "Why!? We will kill this enemy just like all others!" She hissed, initiating her change into hybrid form. Immediately, the monster crouched and leapt towards her, a single wrist spear held back and ready.

"Bring it on!" She hissed, opening her mouth and breathing a torrent of white magnesium fire. It was the hottest fire any Scalebinder could muster, and she knew it would turn this demon to cinders.

Except it didn't. Through her flames it came, landing easily and thrusting the spike straight through her held up axe head and through her shoulder. The only reason it didn't impale her entirely was the barest push from Night Fury to her left.

She hissed in pain as a searing pain rocketed through her body. The spike remained for barely a second before Fishlegs Warhammer coming down forced the demon to jump back, pulling the now bloodied limb from her body. Its grin seemed to have only widened in the time that it had taken to spear her. Astrid was in a state of shock; why had her flame done nothing to this thing? It came through it like a man jumped through a waterfall. Suddenly, her world slowed, and she tilted back as if to fall. She only remained upright due to Ruffnut and Tuffnut holding her up.

"Fishlegs, you need to get her out of here now! And put her in a fire! You _must_ keep her body warm!" Night Fury yelled. Astrid could already feel her blood slowing down in her veins, her vision blurring in and out as she tried to stand on her own power.

"We…we must help you…" She forced the words out, as the very act of speaking brought her pain beyond what she had ever felt before. The wound in her shoulder burned like she was blowing her own fire into it, and she could feel that same burning feeling spreading throughout her veins. It was a moment of unspeakable reality for her. She was not invincible. This enemy had rendered her nearly unable to stand with a single blow. Things that she had always believed about her nature as a Scalebinder were being tested in this moment.

Night Fury stood between them and the creature. "You cannot help me against this foe, Scalebinders. This foe…he is a… _dovahkriid_. A dragonkiller demon."

Astrid felt a hundred questions and the sudden urge to get up and fight surge through her. And then she lost consciousness.

XXX

Fishlegs sent the twins and Snotlout with Astrid to the docks. He was stunned by the turn of events, and even he wasn't sure why he wished to stay here instead of going with his best friend to ensure that she was taken care of. He couldn't believe that in a matter of seconds, that demon had turned arguably the third strongest Scalebinder into an unconscious mess. He wanted to know how Night Fury knew what this thing was. He wanted to know how the man intended to kill it. He wanted to kill it himself. However, he had heard the most important piece of information that Night Fury had shared; it was a dragonkiller. He was a dragon. Or part dragon.

"Night Fury…how do we kill it?" He demanded, placing his full help on his head and hoisting his hammer.

Night Fury glanced over at him. "Not with that at least. This demon is far too fast for that weapon."

Fishlegs didn't question him in the least. He dropped the hammer and drew from his back two war axes that he kept at all times. The weapons were much smaller, and he could swing them faster than one's eye could see. "Better," Night Fury said. "Dragonkillers have but one weakness. The space of about three inches between the knee and foreleg. That is the only part of their body that is soft enough to cut through with one stroke. Once the legs are useless, they will die quickly."

Fishlegs spotted the area without much difficulty. He imagined that it would not be easy to land a blow in that spot though. "How do we land a strike?" He asked.

"Whatever you do," Night Fury said. "Do not get sliced by any of those spikes. They carry a potent venom that only affects _dovah_. Dragons."

Before he could get his answer, the demon roared and launched itself at them. Night Fury assumed his normal battle stance. "Can you hold it off? I will try to find an opening!" Fishlegs nodded and charged. He would ask no questions. Night Fury was the fastest between then, by very far. He had the best chance to land a quick blow that would end this battle. All Fishlegs had to do was keep the demon from killing them first. His charge was met with a snarling demon, and he caught the first several blows on his axes. His arms shook with each strike, the blows falling like boulders from a mountainside.

He managed to gain a single step of ground on the slobbering monster. He swung an axe in a vicious overhead chop, forcing the demon to cross his wrist spikes to block. When it did, he quickly drug his other axe in delayed slash, carving a long gash into the belly section of the demon. He roared in victory, but it was short lived. As he stood and watched, the flesh stitched back up with an eerie green glow of magic. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted a figure, standing atop the shattered roof of the building the demon had emerged from. The same glow surrounded his hands as he wove them in patterns.

"What is that!" He bellowed to Night Fury. The cloaked man stood nearby, having traded a few blows with the demon himself and found no success.

"The _kro_ that birthed this demon!" He yelled back. "If we can kill him, the demon will lose it's tether to this realm!" He immediately sprinted off towards the building, and seeing this, the warlock fled. Fishlegs wanted to give chase, but the dragonkiller was suddenly lunging at him, a bony spike surging for his chest. He was forced to defend himself. He could not hope to chase a warlock and fight a dragon killing demon at the same time. He swung his weapons in a dual horizontal chop, a move meant to back his foe off. The demon jumped high enough to sail over his head, and Fishlegs immediately felt the error he had made, with a hint of luck.

One of the spikes on the demon's foot scored deeply into his shoulder plate, but luckily, did not penetrate deep enough to touch his flesh, saving him from the venom Night Fury warned about. He filed the information away in his mind, knowing how he would react if that particular move was made again. He spun around in time to catch a spike on the haft of his war ax, slashing with his free axe but being blocked easily. He circled with the demon for three paces before it charged again, coming in with a hard right stab. He deflected easily and pressed, scoring three blows against the bony carapace of this demon.

His scores did not blood, but he suspected that if he hit those same places again, he might be able to wound it. Night Fury had said that the legs were the one area that could be severed with _one_ stroke…maybe he could kill it with many strikes to the same location. It would appear that the bone on its body, though thick, could be cut. It was an important bit of information. They would need all the info they could get their hands on if fighting these things was going to be done.

He traded blows with it again, not scoring any more hits. It's snarling seemed to be getting worse, and as time went on, it's movements more sluggish. He suspected that if it was tethered to this realm by the warlock, then the farther away that man was, the weaker the dragonkiller got. He charged forward, this time scoring many more hits. The creatures formidable speed and ferocity form before was all but gone. He swung his blades with purpose in a final flurry batting away the spines and dragging both his axes in a hard horizontal slash at the creature's midsection. He scored two deep gashes, one of them finally spurting with a black bile that stank enough to make Fishlegs close his eyes in disgust. It was a costly mistake.

The sluggish actions must have been a ploy. In a moments thought, Fishlegs had both his axes removed from his hands, and found himself lifted into the air. Both his shoulders had been pierced with wrist spikes, and the beast was holding him at eye level, his feet hanging a clear two feet from the ground. Its mouth, fangs dripping with the same black bile, sat wide in its infernal grin. Fishlegs vision was blurry already, the fire in his veins only outshined by the excruciating pain of the spikes in his shoulders.

"Go…got you," He mumbled. He drew from his sleeve a single dagger. A foot long, and he brought it forward, stabbing it straight into the mouth of the demon and out through the back of its head. He had studied only for a few weeks the anatomy of demons. The books he had found in Helheim's limited library spoke of one thing that all needed to remember. A demon's center of power lay in the head. If severed, the demon's captive souls leave its body, turning it into a diabolical husk, only flesh and bone with no life running through it.

He fell with the demon, his body hitting the bloody cobblestones with a dull smack. The pain in his body did not dissipate, and in his pain addled mind, he made peace that he would probably die from this. All he could hope was that Astrid would survive. If anyone could end the terrors of this world, it was her. He was just glad that he had managed to defeat an enemy dubbed a dragonkiller before his time came. Laying there, alone in the streets, his face half submerged in the torrents of blood, bile and other fluids, he thought of the words Maximus had spoken to them last. And of the warning Night Fury gave him during their sparring earlier that same day.

His ploy of accepting a wound to claim victory was bittersweet. And this death…he felt no honor. Only shame.

XXX

 **Again, apologies.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello Readers. Welcome to chapter 10.**

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Sprinting back up towards the battlefield, Ruffnut held onto a sickening feeling that something had gone very wrong. If she knew the way Fishlegs liked to fight, there was a distinct lack of loud explosions and hammer blows. A distinct lack of battle roars and angry bellows. It was far too quiet. And being the ones who normally caused all sorts of trouble, quiet was never a good thing. They had taken Astrid back to the ship and placed her inside a lit brazier. It was a moment that shocked many of the troops, but the Scalebinders knew what they were doing. Being fireproof in their human forms certainly helped. They didn't know what was going on in regards to the apparent poison or venom that the dragon-killer employed, but Night Fury did, and he told them to keep her body warm.

They reached the battlefield to a horrific sight. The dragon killer lay slumped over, a dagger through its head, and an unmoving body next to it. Fishlegs lay there, a hole in one shoulder that they could see. "Shit!" Tuffnut swore as they ran up to him and rolled the large man over. His eyes were glazed over, but to their happiness, he was still breathing. It was the slightest breath, but enough to ensure to them that he was still alive.

Ruffnut slapped him twice. "Wake up, Fish! Wake up!" She had to guess how he had gotten the two shoulder wounds, and that guess was that he'd done it on purpose to get close to the demon. A part of her wished they had stayed, so she could have fought the demon, but she knew that they had to get Astrid to safety. Now the question begged: where was Night Fury? She glanced around and found nothing else alive in the entire area. Only blood, fluids, shattered bits of bone and organ and cobblestones. She and Tuff were the only two living things in the current vicinity.

She turned to her brother, looking down with worry at Fishlegs. "We have to do the same thing with him. Shift; it's the only way the two of us will carry him, and it will be faster back to the ship." She said. He didn't disagree with her, and within two minutes they were in the sky, their two heads driving for the ship and a still unmoving Fishlegs in their large talons. Atop the main deck, they could see the blaze of the giant brazier they had set up, and the troops surrounding it. Standing almost too close to the fire for comfort was Captain Eret, and Ruffnut was glad that she had been able to trust him with keeping anyone from messing with the fire.

The soldiers back away when they arrived over the ship, giving them plenty of space to drop to the deck. When that was done, they quickly shifted back to human form and, ignoring their nakedness from the shift, ran in two directions. Ruffnut ran and took a running jump into the brazier, the blazing fire within doing nothing to harm her. The flames actually felt quite nice as it licked against her bare flesh. She bent over I the center of the large brazier, taking Astrid's body and leaning it against the side of the metal container. They had to make room for Fishlegs, and he was a large man.

Moments later, Tuffnut appeared at the side of the brazier, three men helping him bring Fishlegs over. Ruffnut shifted to her hybrid form, a green and blue mottled scale draconian form. The two braids she kept on either side of her head grew back into the two trademark horns of her Zippleback head, and her teeth grew to long and sharps fangs. She took the large man from them and pulled him into the fire, his ripped and destroyed clothes alighting and burning away, revealing the mangled and bloody holes in his shoulders. They dripped with a terrible smelling black ooze and she was certain that it was the venom that was so destructive to them.

Once he was placed in the brazier, laying on his back, she moved Astrid to his side. If anything, being so close would keep the both of them warmer than if they were separated in the large brazier. She jumped out to find that Tuffnut had sent another soldier to get them spare sets of clothes. When he offered them to her, respectfully averting his eyes, she laughed. "Just give me a cloak. I may need to jump back in, and I'm not wasting our supplies." He turned and ran off when Tuffnut agreed with her assessment.

"What happened up there?" Tuffnut asked, staring into the brazier with concern in his eyes.

"Astrid was caught off guard by that thing," Ruffnut answered. "Fishlegs…he killed it, but at the cost of those wounds."

Tuffnut hummed in agreement. "What even was that? I know Night Fury called it a dragon-killer, but seriously, what was it?"

A young female soldier stepped forward with a raised hand. Ruffnut cocked an eyebrow at her. "You uh…you have a question?" She asked with a bare amount of amusement. There were plenty of young soldiers with them who had not spent much time among the Scalebinders, and probably had no idea how to interact with them.

She nodded. "Yes, I…um…well…"

"Spit it out," Tuffnut called over to her.

She nodded quickly, swallowing nervously. Ruffnut noted how the other soldiers around her seemed to step back as she had become the focus of the Scalebinders attention. "I spent many years studying to be admitted to Mystic Spire…an-"

"You wanted to be a sorceress?" Ruffnut asked with a minute amount of surprise. "How did you end up at Helheim?"

The woman, or girl really, she looked quite young, grimaced. "I took the tests to enter Mystic Spire, but failed…"

Captain Eret spoke up from where he stood, near the brazier. "The punishment for failing those tests is immediate enlistment at Helheim."

Tuffnut scoffed from where he sat. "Punishment? That makes no sense. How is that a punishment?"

The girl spoke again. There was a detectable shake in her voice. "The magic users of Mystic Spire are a bit…arrogant. To them, trying to access their order is the same as trying to escape the harder life of a foot soldier. If you fail their tests…this is what you get." She was clearly still upset about it all. Ruffnut assumed that she was actually extremely new to the Helheim scene.

"You can do magic?" She asked pointedly. "What's your name?"

"Yes, I can. And my name is Atali Maidenwing." At those words, many of the soldiers exclaimed in surprise, and even Captain Eret voiced his surprise. Ruffnut glanced around with curiosity and found that even more space had been put between the soldiers and Atali. Tuffnut seemed to notice it as well.

"Alright, what's the deal?" He demanded.

"The Maidenwing clan have been the Matriarchs of Mystic Spire for eight hundred years." Captain Eret summarized for them. He seemed unconcerned with the new information.

Understanding dawned on Ruffnut as to why Atali was so upset about all of this. "Your entire family runs the Spire…and you couldn't even get in." If she had any semblance of the emotion of shame, she would have hated how the words came out. However, Ruffnut and her twin had always believed that it was more effective to drive straight to the source of anything, regardless of others feelings. It was more efficient that way.

"Yes," Atali said. "My grandmother was quite…cruel with her dismissal of me. My sisters were all admitted…but I was not."

"How many sisters?"

"Four."

Ruffnut looked over at quartermaster for the whole ship. "Is she assigned to a squad?"

The man looked shocked that she actually addressed him and quickly shook his head. "No, Scalebinder. Maidenwing has yet to pass any assessments for being a soldier…"

Ruffnut's face bloomed to an angry shade of bloodshot red. "That is because she is a sorceress you damn fool! She isn't a fucking foot soldier!" She snarled. When the man cringed, she didn't end her tirade. "I want her added to my squad immediately."

"Scalebinder, she hasn't been deemed wo-"

In an instant, Ruffnut had crossed the distance between herself and the quartermaster, her face mere inches from his, her body having shifted to her draconian hybrid form. "I dare you to finish that sentence." She said coldly, deadly intent ringing through her reptilian voice. "Add her to my squad immediately. I will handle her from now on." She growled. The quartermaster nodded quickly and ran off, where Ruffnut hoped he was running to go and update the troop listings. She turned her narrowed eyes on Atali.

"What sort of magic can you perform?"

The young woman swallowed audibly. "My point, Scalebind-"

"Call me Ruffnut."

She swallowed again. "O-ok…Ruffnut…you said that you fought a dragon-killer demon?"

XXX

Spells flew past him like raindrops, the necromancer having no issue with peppering Night Fury with spells meant to slow him down. Nothing worked as well as the evil man ha hoped though. Night Fury was closing in on him, and it was about time. The man has used some of his black, terrible magic to enchant his body. He moved as fast as the wind through the trees, managing to outpace Night Fury by enough that he could avoid the deadly blades in the cloaked man's hands.

He had chased this mage since the port town, and he was immensely frustrated by the ability of this terror to evade him. Much of their powers rely on living creatures, and thus their abilities are far expanded in Dragonoa, a place of thriving life. This kill would have been quite easy in the dead land that is Blackreach, as there was little that he could draw power from. If only that was the case here.

As he dodged yet another bolt of black magic, Night Fury said a silent prayer for Fishlegs and Astrid. Dragonkiller demons were exactly as their name suggests. Deadly to dragons. They were completely adapted to killing the giant reptiles, and unfortunately, scalebinders are half dragon. It all came together in one, terrifying conclusion that he had come to: someone was trying to kill the scalebinders _specifically_. This was no general attack against Dragonoa. This blood warlock had summoned a dragon-killer at that specific location for a specific purpose.

Summoning using blood magic was a tricky business, mainly because of two major factors: it required large amounts of energy, and that energy had to come from living things. Unfortunately for him, Dragonoa was plentiful in both of those categories. It made this much harder to do, and he knew that he had to hurry. The flames that he hoped Ruffnut and Tuffnut placed Astrid within would only keep the poison at bay. Their trip was about to take a much, much longer detour.

Finally, a breakthrough! The trees suddenly broke to an open field. Obviously a farm of some sort, and he gleefully noted that the necromancer had made a critical error; the amount of life in the middle of the field was drastically lower than under giant trees. He came to a stop near the man, remaining fully conscious that blood warlocks enjoyed traps. They never killed outright. It was always their goal to keep a target alive, so they could siphon off life energy.

"Out of places to run, _kro_ ," He yelled. The warlock turned putrid eyes, a sickly green shade, on Night Fury. His flesh was rotted and yellow, a clear sign of the corruption his unnatural magic caused.

"You will _never_ kill me here, creature." His voice slid from his lips like guts from an open wound, his mouth gurgling out red colored slime as he spoke. Truly, blood warlocks were a terrible thing. Night Fury focused carefully on the land around the warlock, noting that the small plants, sitting in their rows, were beginning to wilt. Life energy was being siphoned from them as he stood, but it would not be enough. He would see this warlock die before another spell left his body. However, he had to get information.

"Who sent you here, warlock?" He called.

The man started to cackle, bile spilling from his mouth as he did. "Fool! Even your pathetic little clan couldn't halt the inevitable!" His laughter overtook him, and he doubled over as if in pain as he expressed his sick joy. "Oh, how many had to be sacrificed…but the doorway opened! For the first time in two millennia, the doorway to Abyssus opened!"

Night Fury, as confident as any who walked on this plane of existence, felt his blood go cold. Abyssus, the most nightmarish of demon realms, had been tapped? It could mean…many things. All of them were possibilities for the end of Terra. The warlock appeared to notice Night Fury's sudden silence as he breathed in raggedly. "An Abyssal walks this plane. It will destroy Dragonoa!"

He continued, even as he rose to stand straight up once more. Night Fury was still frozen by the revelations of before. "This land will burn. These pathetic people will become nothing except livestock for the summoning of demons. The Sanguine Cloister will rule the world once more! And…I will be there when the Abyssal shatters what is left of your kind!" He screamed the last words and lifted both his hands to the sky. "I, Johann the Betrayer, will see you all _burn_! Starting with you!" Clasped in one of his hands was a vial that Night Fury had seen before.

Inside, a crystal the same color as dark blood thrummed with the souls of living beings. He guessed that they were the souls of the inhabitants of Utensfjord. In a flash, the warlock brought his hands together, shattering the vial and the crystal within between them. A cloud of swirling energy appeared around him, coalescing into an ethereal form. The ethereal warrior only glared for a moment before falling to the ground and dissipating.

Night Fury stood cautious, his eye darting around his surroundings. He had seen this summoning before. The shade that was summoned would appear anywhere, having gathered the life energy from the earth to assume physical form. With a loud rumble and a spray of dirt, rock, and roots, the shade burst from the earth, the two double-bladed axes in its hands whirling a dance of death. He sprung quickly to action, batting away the first horizontal strike and prancing away, his eyes planted on the ghostly orbs of his new, yet long-dead enemy.

Behind the reanimated warrior, Johann glared at him with a barely concealed disgust and hatred. "You work with those pathetic dragon hybrids. Now, battle one of their greatest! Killed by me, his soul forever in servitude to me!" Without another word, he turned and walked off towards the forests at the other end of the field. Night Fury sprang forward, intent on killing the necromancer quickly and ending this battle. The warrior standing between them jumped to action, a double ax slash forcing Night Fury to abandon his move towards the necromancer.

He quickly brought his swords up, blocking the blow but being pushed back slightly from the force. Fighting those creatures brought back from the dead was always harder than fighting those who are alive. The undeath condition means that those creatures do not feel the strain of muscles or limbs. They will continue to fight, despite any damage they might receive. As long as it does not kill them, any blow might as well be child's play.

Something that he was reminded of at this moment as he traded blows with the ghost. Johann had said that he was battling one of their greatest…in reference to the scalebinders…and this ghost had clear signs of scales on his face. They were a harsh orange color, crossing over his face in a bright pattern of waves. He did not know who this warrior might be, but he was confident in one thing. This ghost could kill him. He was no normal reanimation.

Even as fast as he was, Night Fury found that landing a strike against this enemy would be difficult. The axes sang as they carved through the air towards him, and even Night Fury's speed and strength were tested. He spun, using his billowing cloak as a disguise for his strikes, hoping that the ghost would be confused by all the movement to be able to foresee a strike. When his spin neared its final stage, he struck out with his right blade, aiming for the ghost's shoulder. With his following left slash, he ducked, aiming low for the knee.

To his frustration, the ghost did the unexpected. It stepped into his upper strike, allowing his blade to sink deeply into its shoulder, blocking the low strike with the haft of his left ax. His right ax handle was jammed into Night Fury's chest, the hard wooden shaft pushing all the air out of his body. He quickly recovered and pushed away from the ghost, landing two slashes across the arm and wrist as he created some distance.

The distance he sought created, he circled slowly, his eyes carefully analyzing the stance and demeanor of the warrior before him. It was hard to do, mostly because the ghost showed nearly no signs of earthly effect. He didn't limp. His left arm and wrist though cut deeply showed no effects. The hand still gripped the war ax with the same amount of strength as before. Weight changes didn't appear to matter, mainly because this beast did not feel tired. Did not feel pain. The only foreseeable way to defeat it would be to render it unable to fight.

Which gave him a goal that he could now attain. He zeroed in on his first target, which would be the legs. If he could remove its ability to walk, then he could easily outmaneuver the ghost. This line of reasoning also included the caveat that this ghost needed legs to walk at all. For all he knew, as soon as he cut them off, his enemy would begin floating. Although the many decades he had spent walking this earth taught him many things, fighting such creatures as this was not one of them.

He drove in towards his foe, coming in low to set up his strikes. The ghost dipped, ready to defend, the dual axes poised to block and attack simultaneously. Night Fury rose up high, leaping towards the ghost in a large feint, hoping that the enemy would rise to block, giving him enough of an opening to slice the legs. If his thoughts were right, then he would have to cleanly remove one of the limbs. He couldn't depend on the idea that _maybe_ the ghost will be affected by a normal tendon cut. Thus far, he had seen no evidence that his previously scored wounds were affecting it at all.

The Shade pressed his jump, swinging an ax at the bottom of his feet. Night Fury had a moment to celebrate his assumption about the ghostly warrior not knowing of firm battle strategy, instead relying more on the endless strength and unfeeling nerves than trickery and finesse. With a quick tuck and turn, Night Fury lifted his feet beyond the strike and landed, blades swinging, behind the shade. With the resistance both his swings felt, he knew he'd struck flesh.

And what a clean strike it was. One leg was entirely removed, while another was held on by a small sliver of skin and muscle. With an otherworldly grunt, the shade fell to the grass of the field, and Night Fury tasted his victory like a sweet wine. Watching the creature struggle to turn, using the axes in an attempt to bring his body around, struck a tinge of sorrow in Night Fury. According to the warlock, Johann, this man was once a great warrior. To see him reduced to such a state was…sad.

" _Wo Los Hi, hokzii?_ "(1) He asked, determined to discover who this was.

The shade looked up at him and, maybe realizing that the fight was lost, stopped his struggle. " _Ragnar do Sahqo Vrii_. _Al zey, tol zu'u aal siiv drem, kruziik gein._ "(2)

Night Fury did not react to the use of the old language. The one he spoke. Johann, the warlock, had said that this man was once a mighty scalebinder. That could mean that he was ancient, and the old binders spoke the old tongue. In the moment, all the rest of the world fell away for him. Only the truest of beings spoke the old tongue. Spoke the language of the creators of the world. He nodded as a show of respect to the shade. The creature did not say any more, but turned his back once again, straightening his back and holding his head proudly.

Night Fury put one blade back in its sheath and held one with both hands. The sacrificial strike, the honorable, shining ending that he would bring to this warrior demanded he use one blade. He turned his body, squaring his feet and drawing the blade back. " _Praan vahk, kendov._ "(3) He said in farewell. With a hard turn of his hips and a pivot of the ankle, he brought the single blade around in a hard cut. The head of the shade came off cleanly, leaving only a cold, bloodless stump. Only a single breath passed before an ethereal vapor, looking like clean, transparent smoke, rose from the stump.

It hung in the air for only another second before dissipating. Night Fury stepped back as the body of the shade melted away into the ground. A noxious smell rose from the dirt as the grass in it died before his eyes. Horrible magic was the only thing that could possibly create something so unnatural that it's very presence killed living things. He wondered for a moment why, at the very end, the shade had those moments of freedom. In his slightly limited experience, trapped souls were forever slaves to their masters.

Maybe the old warrior still had some will left over.

He thought for a moment about going after the warlock but thought better of it. He was gone, no doubt hidden away in some cave or hole until the danger had passed. Night Fury turned away, his eyes set on the port where his key to victory lay. He needed the Scalebinders. The Night Council needed the Scalebinders. He would deliver them.

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 **Sorry it has been so long since I have updated. Life.**

 **Below are the translations for the dovahzul in this chapter. I have decided to use a type of in-text citation to make sure that you guys know what is what.**

 **Who are you, spirit? (1)**

 **Ragnar of Red Scales. Destroy me, that I may find peace, ancient one. (2)**

 **Rest easy, warrior (3)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Welcome to Chapter 11! This is a _really_ important chapter. This will set the stage for a lot of stuff. Enjoy**!

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Atali stood in the square of the small village of Agnars Mill, her nerves on edge as they hadn't been for some time. Behind her, still ensconced in the large brazier of flames lay Commander Hofferson and the other binder, Fishlegs. She was now fully privy to the extent of the danger they were in as a result of their wounds. Dragon-killers, a race of demons she had studied a little bit when she attempted to enter Mystic Spire, secreted a poison on their bony blades that was lethal to dragons. The entire point of the magic was to cool the dragon down enough that their 'flame' would extinguish, killing them.

The cloaked enigma, Night Fury, told them of a temporary prevention; putting them in a roaring flame to keep their bodies warm. According to him, it was a measure that would only slow the poison that was coursing through their blood. The only real way to cure the poison was…to her great chagrin, the sorceresses of Mystic Spire. Specifically, her grandmother's healers. Now, they had detoured from their original course in order to meet the party from that crystal tower she had dreamed of for so long. It had been quite the journey, the whole party walking through the nights to make it here, the decided rendezvous point.

It had been a week since the battle at Utensfjord. A full week of a raging fire in the brazier. They had not run into any more demonic battles, which was a relief. Very few of them knew the full extent of the combat capabilities of the remaining binders. Obviously, they were powerful, but…everyone knew of the strength and power of Commander Hofferson and Fishlegs. The obvious void in leadership was more than palpable, despite well-trained lieutenants for both of the injured hybrids taking their places beside the other Scalebinders.

Atali herself had found that being part of the Scalebinders squad was a huge relief. Ruffnut's group of soldiers were, for lack of a better term, insane. Not necessarily in a bad way, but more so that they treat nearly any situation with an _unnecessary_ degree of competition and danger. She had born witness to gambling of the wildest kind, involving kills in battle as well as the methodology of those kills. The most alarming one was a wager that a man couldn't make six kills with a wooden bowl in battle. Who made wagers like this!?

On the other hand, they had been more than welcoming of her into the squad. In fact, they had already changed their squad formation, without Ruffnut's orders, to place her in the middle, defended on all sides. It was oddly touching for her. Her magical abilities were not overwhelming, but she could cast spells of several types along with enchantments and one or two barriers. With the protection of a squad, she could even commit to some chants and incantation spells. Maybe she would live out her dream of being a sorceress after all.

"Where are they?" Ruffnut's brother, Tuffnut asked her. Since they were meeting the group from Mystic Spire, she had become the unofficial – official liaison for their arrival. Which left her in the horrible situation of facing her siblings again. She hadn't seen them since the day that she was denied entry into the prestigious school of magic, and she had every reason to believe that their opinions of her hadn't changed.

She took a deep breath to steady her legs. "My grandmother would tell you that sorceresses are not held to time. They will arrive when they arrive."

Tuffnut snorted. "What are you going to tell me?" There was a hard edge to his voice. Atali had noted, with some observation, that the twins harbored an interesting secret. Despite their carefree attitude and thrill-seeking tomfoolery, they both were extremely defensive of the other Scalebinders. They had both been restless ever since arriving here, and she was sure that the restlessness came from watching a deadly poison kill their friends.

"I hope they are here soon." She replied with a hopeful tone.

Around the small village, the military detachment sat in circles around groupings of logs, for the most part still on edge. The battle they had seen at Utensfjord had shaken many of them; seeing such monsters on their homeland soil was disturbing. Atali felt their pain acutely on that front. Dragonoa was supposed to be the free, shining star of life in the world. There was _never_ supposed to be demons and mutants on their home soil. That just…did not happen.

The men were on edge, and everyone knew it. The townspeople had been warned about it as well, though Atali wished they didn't have to intrude on them like this. Much of the troops were housed in the huts where there was space. While she did enjoy a nice bed and a roof over her head, Atali refused to take up residence in these peoples homes, especially when things were this tense. It seemed like every snapped branch of animal cry set men reaching for weapons.

She was no different. She hadn't seen combat in Utensfjord, but she could hear the bestial screams of the mutants and the cries of battle clear as day from the ships. It was a harrowing moment, and when the mighty Scalebinders came back injured, she thought the very worst was going to happen. Luckily, nothing too terrible had befallen the human troops.

A sudden crack rang through the air, and her entire body tightened. It was the signature sound of a portal opening, and that could only mean that the group from Mystic Spire had arrived. For several minutes, they waited, until around the bend came a group of six magic users. One man…and five women. Atali's four sisters and her grandmother, all of whom wore barely surprised expressions on their faces. Barely surprised and plenty smug at seeing her.

Ruffnut and the other two remaining Scalebinders, as well as Night Fury, came to stand beside her. Lieutenants from Commander Hofferson and Fishlegs squads came up as well, and together the group stood in a line. Some part of Atali hoped that this would…mitigate any of her sister's hopes at mocking her. She doubted she would have any luck, but she had nothing if not hope.

"Hello Atali," Her eldest sister, Viri, said as they came near. "I am surprised that you are still enlisted."

Atali bristled. "Hello, sister," Atali replied hotly.

Viri smirked at her. "Address me with respect, _sold-_ "

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Ruffnut growled, stepping between Atali and her sister. "Atali is part of my squad. You got something to say to her, you say it to me!" She snapped.

Viri, in all the aloof, smug, entitled style of Mystic Spire, didn't even look at the Scalebinder. "I am a sorceress of My-"

Ruffnut's hybrid form came out quickly, her fangs bared and her eye slits boring into Viri's face. "And I am a Scalebinder. Unless you have something to say about the poison of the dragon-killer, keep your fucking mouth closed." Atali wanted to reach out and pull back her new captain, but fear of reprisal struck her immobile, as well as the graceful and silent motion of her grandmother. The older woman, who didn't look much older than twenty due to the enchantments she no doubt put on herself, calmly interposed herself.

"Scalebinder, she meant no offense." She said serenely. "My granddaughter simply does not have her _manners_ in order this morning," The last words carried such warning in them that even Atali wanted to turn and run. She noted that Viri looked adequately chastised and would be a liar if she did not admit it brought her some joy. "I am Matriarch Tania of Mystic Spire. Allow me to apologize for our introduction."

Ruffnut, still shifted and still quite angry, only growled in response. For a tense minute, they remained silently staring at each other. Atali's sisters glared at her, but she didn't meet their looks. Her eyes remained plastered on Ruffnut's back. She could maintain her firm stance that way. Ruffnut finally shifted out of her hybrid form.

"Whatever. What can you do about the dragon killer poison?" She asked, the blunt question directed at the matriarch. Atali was alarmed at the blatant disrespect shown by Ruffnut, but then she remembered that the Scalebinders did not care for outward respect or shows of etiquette. Nor did they care apparently about the mountain of privilege and deference that is usually shown to Mystic Spire.

Atali's grandmother bowed her head gently. "A fairly extensive ritual should cleanse the poison from their veins. However…this ritual comes with a…caveat."

"Don't be vague," Tuffnut growled. "Say what you mean and hurry up."

Tania looked irked, but she was a master at masking her emotions and maintaining control. "This ritual does not eradicate the poison. It only moves it. I would need a volunteer to accept it."

"You fucking serious?" Ruffnut demanded. "How the hell are we going to get someone to agree to take a lethal poison into their bodies!?"

Night Fury stepped forward, holding his hand up. Surprisingly, Ruffnut stopped her tirade. "Remember, Ruffnut. The poison is only lethal to _dragons_. And dragonkin. A normal human would probably get fairly sick, but I doubt the poison would kill them." He advised. Atali still shook her head at the idea of it. Although she knew that the soldiers were loyal…she couldn't think that any of them would willingly accept such a poison.

"Actually…" Tania began, her eyes clearly on the cloaked man. "What do we call you?"

"Night Fury is the only name we know him by," Tuffnut answered automatically.

The matriarch looked over at the young man with a barely concealed look of amusement. "You call him…Night Fury? What is this? A schoolyard game?"

Night Fury did not move but did speak, his voice gravel as it emerged. " _Dreh ni wiiv zey, Monahrel_." (1) He rumbled. All of the sorceresses, Atali's family, responded in surprise. The old language might be spoken only in pieces by the Scalebinders, but even Tania had to recognize that this man spoke it with a mastery beyond the current Binder generations. If her grandmother thought anything more of the words and who spoke them, she said nothing of it.

"There is no other way, Scalebinder." She said to Ruffnut, her eyes conveying sorrow and resignation. To the surprise of everyone standing there, Ruffnut turned her eyes to Atali.

"That true? No other way than some insane transference ritual?"

Atali nodded lightly. "The poison is borne of another realm. Normal methods will never work. We cannot eliminate it; it must be removed." She said. Although she never made it into Mystic Spire, Atali had plenty of literature and texts regarding magic. In the days it had taken them to arrive here, she had done what research she could. "I do not know if there are much more delicate spells that could be performed but…if Matriarch Tania says the ritual is the only way, then I believe it."

Ruffnut shrugged. "Good enough for me. Let's get to asking around."

XXX

The soldiers of Dragonoa were brave. That could never be questioned, but even the bravest shuddered at the thought of an ancient, demonic poison coursing through their veins. The Scalebinders had been quite adamant that nobody would be ordered to accept the venom of the dragon-killer. That Astrid nor Fishlegs would allow it. Quite noble, but it left them with no volunteers.

Atali sat quietly by a low fire, having been assigned the duty of first watch. Not that she could have slept even if she wanted to. Her thoughts were too consumed by the situation. How could she help? She should be able to do more for her new commanders. Again, she felt helpless and useless. Just like she had the day that she failed the entrance tests for Mystic Spire.

Her eyes wandered over to the largest house in this little hamlet. Around it, she could faintly see the shimmer of enchantments and spells put in place to protect the party that slumbered within. Her sisters, and her grandmother. It had been a shock to her system to see them again. To see that her sisters still bore some sort disdain for her very existence.

She took in a deep breathe and let it go slowly. There was very little she could do about her current situation, and she'd long ago decided that she would not concern herself with such things. Her energies were better focused on finding a solution to the venom issue.

Nearby, a light crack alerted her and she jumped to her feet, a single hand on her sword. She was certainly not a hand to hand melee combatant, but she had no recourse. "Put that down, Atali." Out of the shadows, her grandmother emerged in all her lithe, magical glory.

Atali paled and quickly dropped the blade with a cacophonous clang. She averted her eyes and bowed her head. "I-I'm sorry, gran-"

"That is _Matriarch_ to you," The older woman snapped.

Atali winced at the tone but corrected herself immediately. "I'm sorry, Matriarch."

Tania's hawkish features, despite her age reducing enchantments, smirked. "That's better. Now, pack your things. I am removing you from this." Her tone indicated no argument, but Atali could only just barely keep from bursting out at her.

"What?"

The Matriarch waved a hand. "You do not need to die a horrid, painful death at the hands of a demon. Come."

Atali blinked away a tear. "I did not think that you cared for me or my fate." She said quietly.

The Matriarch scoffed. "Foolish girl. I do not. As disgraceful as your existence is within the Maidenwing clan, I cannot allow you to die in that manner. No Maidenwing will die at the hands of some slavering beast. I will remove you from the armed forces and you will work with the groundskeeper of Maidenwing Manor. I will collect you in the morning and send you home." With that, the Matriarch faded into the darkness of the night, heading for the shimmering home.

Atali stood there, feeling a potent mixture of shame, anger, and confusion. Her grandmother did not care for her, yet she did not want Atali to die at the hands of a demon. The blatant…unfeeling coldness behind it all tore through her mind. She knew that her family was angry with her, but this…this was pure… _isolation_.

She wanted to be angry with her family. She wanted to be angry that they held on to such ridiculous concepts of superiority, all because they were permitted to live in the luxurious grandeur of Mystic Spire. She was upset and angry with herself for not being able to channel the magic in her blood more potently. She was angry with her mother and father for allowing her to be treated this way.

Most of all, she was angry that her grandmother wouldn't even allow her the honor that came with serving Dragonoa, even if it wasn't as a sorceress. She would not let that happen. She would serve and regain some semblance of respect from people. Even if it wasn't her own family.

Her eyes alighted on the still burning brazier, with the bodies of Fishlegs and Astrid in it. The pain they must be enduring at the hands of the poison. It was then, staring at that brazier, that she knew what to do. If her grandmother insisted that she would take Atali from the ranks of Dragonoa, then her last act would be one that she could say saved someone.

She would volunteer to take the poison from the bodies of Astrid and Fishlegs. She would endure pain so that they could live. She walked up to the brazier, the intense, roaring heat warming up her face even from at least thirty feet away. The Scalebinders really were some of the most amazing things in all of the world. What she wouldn't give to be able to shift as they do. To feel the air rush past her face. To be free of the prejudice of sorceresses and soldiers.

"What the hell are you doing up?"

Atali jumped and looked in front of her. Sitting right at the base of the brazier was Ruffnut, her legs crossed in front of her and her back hunched. Atali momentarily wondered how she had missed seeing her commander sitting there, close enough to the fire that her clothes had long since burned away. Seems to be a habit that the scalebinders don't mind doing that.

"First watch." She replied shortly.

Ruffnut scoffed. "Seems you and grammy had a bit of a chat."

Atali winced. She didn't like her personal, family issues being brought up. Especially by her Scalebinder. "Heard that?"

"You guys weren't quiet. You going to let her take you?"

Atali's embarrassed feelings quickly turned to smoldering anger. "I can't fucking believe her. She rejects me from Mystic Spire, sends me to Helheim, and then wants to take that away from me too!" She hissed.

"So don't let her."

Atali stared at the back of Ruffnut's head, unsure if she should react with surprise or some other emotion. It was probably a case where Ruffnut was entirely unaware of the sheer power that the Matriarch of Mystic Spire carried. She couldn't say no to the woman. She would have to obey. On top of all that…it was her _grandmother_. The Maidenwing family had always been taught by the best tutors that money could buy, but one thing was drilled into them from the day of their birth – the Matriarch of the family was not to be disobeyed.

And, as had been the case for several centuries, the Matriarchs of the Maidenwing family have also been the Matriarchs of Mystic Spire. "I…" She started. She wanted to say that she wouldn't allow it, but she just couldn't find the words. Openly disregarding the wishes of her grandmother…it was anathema to everything she believed.

"I…I can't do anything about it."

Ruffnut stood and turned to look at her, naked but enveloped in the corona of the flames. For a long, silent minute the Scalebinder stared at her. Finally, with what sounded like a low growl, she turned away and started walking into the darkness.

"If you want to bend over and submit, go ahead." Was her only words.

Atali stood there for a long time, staring at the ground. She didn't know how to think. She didn't know what to do. Did she sacrifice herself for Astrid and Fishlegs? Did she listen to Ruffnut and defy her grandmother, ultimately severing any ties she had to the Maidenwing clan? Did she submit to her grandmother's wishes and go live out her days as a groundskeeper for the Maidenwing ancestral home?

Ruffnut was right. There was nothing to think about here. If her grandmother already hated her enough to sentence her to a life of hard labor at the manor, a laughing stock for any Maidenwing to come, then she had nothing to lose. She would be her own person. Her family's pompous and aloof attitude would not ruin her any longer.

She headed back to her post by the small fire and sat down, a new resolute mindset burning in her head. She would have to swallow plenty of fear to face down her grandmother, but she would pull it off. Somehow.

XXX

"I have done as you asked, Ancient One." Tania Maidenwing said, watching her granddaughter from the window of the home they were lodged in. She had come to a quick understanding with this man whom she had met that day. It was a momentous moment for her, and she doubted anyone else, even her own daughters, understood just whom they stood in the presence of.

"Will you answer my questions now?"

"That depends on the question." Night Fury answered her. She thought his moniker was absolutely ridiculous; that he was a clown trying to pose as something mysterious and powerful. She was stunned when she heard his mastery of the ancient tongue. Of dovahzul, the language of the creators of their world, the dragons. In her many years as the Matriarch of Mystic Spire, she had spent countless hours poring through documents, books, scrolls and even etchings detailing the dragons and how they lorded over Terra.

In all her research, the dragons were long extinct, killed off by humans in a long war that culminated in an event known as _Krahus_. The closest translation into human tongue was The Cooling. It refers to the idea that if a dragon's body cooled off enough, they would die. It was a catastrophic event and was the major extinction event for dragons.

Or, that's what the research claimed. She admitted that she had no primary sources regarding the event. It is only written about in vague claims and even murkier description. Part of those murky descriptions were stories and scant accounts of a group of humans who worshipped the dragons, so much so to bond with them in old rituals. They were known to be phantoms, dressed all in black, who appeared in the world only when grave events were nigh. Her studies had reported that the last known sighting of one of these phantoms was nearly a full millennium in the past.

During that time, the stories told of a cataclysmic event originating from the oceans. No names had ever been assigned to this event, but the records and poems told of beaches drying up, fish dying in droves and waves taller than fortresses crashing into the coast. During this time, an apparently firsthand account from a farmer told of a man in a black cloak. This phantom brought a tome of ancient knowledge to an unnamed, unidentified woman who lived in a small stone hut.

This woman went on to quell the natural disasters plaguing her home using intense, powerful magic. Again, as the stories told, the man in black disappeared, never to be seen again. No further details have ever emerged of this cataclysm, the man in the black cloak, or the woman who allegedly saved the world. But, records from before even then identify these phantoms in black.

The Night Council, they were called. And this man, this…Night Fury, had confirmed to her that he was a member of this Council.

Tania had spent the time since she confronted him, hours ago in the forest, thinking about what she wanted to ask first. What she wanted to know. What could this man tell her? What single piece of information would she want more than any other?

"Are the dragons really gone?" She asked. It was the one thing that she could think of that would benefit their world more than any other. If the dragons were truly gone…it would be a sad revelation.

Night Fury regarded her silently for what felt like a long time. She thought that maybe he would renege on his promise to answer any single question of hers, but to her glee, he hummed. "No."

"So they can return!?" She snapped at him, her desire to know the answer overriding her normally serene composure.

Night Fury rose from his seat and went to the door. "Dragons disappeared due to the most powerful magic. Only magic more powerful than that can bring them back."

* * *

 **So, a little less dovahzul in this chapter, but that felt appropriate. Hopefully, I will be able to write much faster on this. Reviews always welcome!**

 **Do not mock me, Matriarch. (1)**


	12. Chapter 12

So yeah. Super sorry for how long this took to get out to you guys. I was hitting a nice stride there for a bit with writing, but then life decided to play shitty with me. Anyhow. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Absolutely not!" Tania screeched. "You will _not_ be offering yourself like some pig to the slaughter!" She stood at the head of the small detachment of magic users from Mystic Spire as they regarded the brazier, along with the commanding officers of the military group, Night Fury and the remaining Scalebinders. Atali had just stepped forward and officially offered to accept the dragon-killer poison into her own veins to save Astrid and Fishlegs. Needless to say…the Matriarch was not taking it well.

Atali stood her ground, her shoulders set firmly and her chin held up in defiance of her grandmother. She had spoken firmly and without even the slightest waver to her voice. Several soldiers around, especially those from her squad, had called out their support of her bravery. She probably looked like the bravest of the brave there, ready and willing to accept a poison from another realm of existence, and at the direct disobedience of the supremely powerful Matriarch of Mystic Spire. Who was also her grandmother.

Inside, Atali felt like she was barely holding herself on her own two legs. The fear that coursed through her when she just saw her grandmother's facial expression nearly toppled her entire resolve. Even though the soldiers spoke highly of her in this moment, she couldn't help the thought that maybe they were just grateful that someone had offered to accept the huge responsibility and toll of taking the venom into their bodies. That perhaps they did not actually support _her_ , but only her sacrifice.

Honorable? Of course. More so than many would ever hope to achieve. Did she fear her decision? Far more than she would ever fear her grandmother's wrath. She had no choice but this path though; her family would never respect her, mainly for the fact that she had failed so spectacularly in her tests to entire Mystic Spire. In effect, she represented one of the few Maidenwing women who would never be a successful sorceress.

"I will do this, _Matriarch_ ," She spat the final word, knowing that even if her family didn't respect her enough to care about her barb, she had still scored a personal point for herself. "As an enlisted soldier of the Dragonoa military, it is my honor to sacrifice myself for this cause."

Night Fury, having remained mostly silent this morning, spoke up candidly. "There is no guarantee of death; you are not dragonkin. The poison will react quite different once it runs through your veins."

Tania turned her furious gaze on the cloaked man. "How do you know this!? As I recall, you were not even aware that moving the poison was possible! How could you know the effects it will have on a normal human!?"

He did not move. "I do not know. She may die immediately. She may not. I do know that dragon-killer poison is lethal to dragons. She does not have any dragon blood flowing through her veins. I have to assume that it will not kill outright."

The Matriarch was unimpressed by this explanation and slammed her hand on the table before them, a flash of magic shattering the wooden furniture. "Assume!? Assumptions kill more effectively than any blade, _Night Fury_."

He still did not react. Secretly, Atali wished that she had his ability to stay in such tight control. He did not betray anything with his voice, movements or anything else. He could probably stand himself against a thousand foes and not even have a quiver in his legs. She yearned for his confidence.

"It is simple," Viri, Atali's oldest sister, interjected. "We will not perform the ritual without the approval of the Matriarch. Despite our _sister's_ disgraceful existence, our grandmother does not see fit to commit to this. There is no alternative." She summarized. Atali wanted, with every bone in her slim body, to shove those words straight down her sister's throat. Her anger bubbled deeply, but then a thought occurred to her. Disgraceful…

She decided that she was already taking a risk that could leave her dead. "Grandmother, please," She noted how her sisters all bristled and her grandmother flinched at her improper address, but she forged onward. "I have brought enough disgrace to the Maidenwing Clan. There are few callings greater in Dragonoa to defend and protect the people and the land. The Scalebinders are key in this calling. Allow me to make a final payment for my disgrace; allow me to save two of the mightiest fighters this land will ever see. Please. Bards and artists will sing and paint of this day for the next thousand years. The day when a mere human saved the mighty Scalebinders. And you will always know that it was a Maidenwing who brought that honor. _Please_ …it is all I am good for now."

It made her sick to think…to _know,_ somewhere deep inside, that this plead would break her grandmother's opposition. Placing the clan before her own well-being. Essentially claiming that her only use in life would be to die to increase the clan's standing. It made her weep internally that her family might accept such a proposal. That, in this moment of choosing between life and possible excruciating death, her family would go with the option that would benefit themselves. She stood, hoping that her grandmother would accept her offer. The part of her that missed her family, no matter what they had done to her in the past, hoped she would refuse.

She was horrified when, after a moment's quiet reflection, her grandmother's rage faded. "Very well. Atali Maidenwing, I will perform this ritual. Should you pass on…I only hope that Valhalla welcomes you with open doors and cold drink."

The acceptance shocked her. Atali fought her own strength to remain standing, to keep from falling to her knees and weeping. Family was meant to support and love each other. To be the one thing in every life that does not waver. That does not wilt away when difficult decisions rock their worlds. She did not have such a thing, and it nearly broke her spirit entirely.

With a cold look on her face, Tania Maidenwing took out a scroll and unrolled it. "Commanding officers, these are the things that must be arranged for this ritual to take place. I need them done within the hour, and then, you must all remain in exactly the places you are assigned." Her eyes never left Atali's while she spoke, something in her gaze sending the coldest of chills up the young woman's spine.

She didn't know what she was supposed to do during this time, but that was answered for her when two of her sisters, Viri and Auri, came to stand in front of her. The looks on their faces betrayed exactly what they thought of her and her decision.

"So, sister," Viri began. "Deciding to do something better with your life? I cannot say I agree with your pathetic attempt at honor, but I commend you for doing _something_."

Auri, her middle sister and quite possibly the most venomous of them all, smirked devilishly. "At least you haven't become a whore for coin. Honestly, I thought that was what you would end up doing, so congratulations on not becoming a toy of men."

Atali grit her teeth painfully, pressing so hard she thought one might break. "You could only hope to ever do something as selfless as this, Auri. Have you stopped bullying small children to assert your dominance?" She shot back.

Auri's gaze turned cruel and her sadistic side began to emerge. "You are no longer there to bully, _sister_. I wish you would have taken grandmothers offer so I could spend the rest of my life making you understand just how much we hate you."

The growl from behind the sorceresses didn't make them turn, but Atali noted the rage in Ruffnut's eyes. "You two have nothing better to do?" She hissed.

Viri didn't turn around, but Atali noted the look she gave her sister. It was…concerned, to say the least of it. "Leave us, Scalebinder. You have no authority with us. Do what you are to-" She didn't even finish the words before she suddenly straightened, her eyes wide and her hands splayed painfully. A reptilian hand, scaled and complete with long talons, was wrapped around her neck from behind, the razor tips of the claws coming to rest on the front of her throat.

A shifted Ruffnut had her eyes narrowed and a fang-filled scowl on her face. "Let me make this perfectly clear to you, for the last time," Her voice and her partial shifting had stopped all progress as gathered soldiers and the rest of the magic users watched. She drew in a sharp breath when she noted that her grandmother had made no movement to rescue Viri from Ruffnut's wrath. "Unless you have something to say about the ritual, you need to keep your mouth shut."

Atali was stunned when suddenly, there was a harsh flash and the smell of sizzling clothing. A patch of Ruffnut's tunic, worn because she did not wear armor unless combat was nigh, was lit and burning, the skin beneath barely harmed. Even Auri, generally ready and follow Viri to the end of the earth, no matter how stupid the ploy, backed away. A draconian laugh echoed out and Atali found the joy…unnerving.

"You really think that you can hurt a dragon with _fire_?" Ruffnut laughed. "Some sorceress you are."

"Release me!" Viri shrieked.

Ruffnut only laughed again. "Now why should I do that? You just attacked me. Probably with the intent to seriously harm. Now…the case could be made that I started it all, but you know what? I think I don't like that narrative. So here's the deal, little sorceress. Matriarch Tania!" She turned, her strength easily handling Viri, to glance over.

"Do you mind if I make a deal with your granddaughter here?"

The Matriarch shook her head calmly "She was warned to not antagonize you or any of the Scalebinders, Ruffnut. She did not learn her lesson. Feel free to teach her a new one." The rest of the grandchildren standing around the Matriarch had their eyes planted on the ground, but Atali could see them angling their heads to look at each other.

When she was still liked by her family, their grandmother would come to the manor often to work with them and just spend time. One thing was always made perfectly clear; she would not be coming to their aid if they did something stupid. Especially if they were warned about it first. Her strict eyes molded them into fine young women. Mature, experienced and intelligent, with no hindrances like petty jealousy or hate. If only she knew how her granddaughters really were.

Ruffnut grinned a wide, draconian smile. "So we were warned to not fuck with me? Well, well, well... See what you've gone and done now?" To her credit, Viri set her lips in a firm line and stuck her chick out as much as she could.

At this point, Atali took a quick glance around. There was nothing going on around the small square. Soldiers watched from their feet, from logs they sat upon and even in windows. Townspeople watched as well from various places. Tuffnut sat not ten feet away, looking bored as he picked his teeth was a long, thin talon.

Ruffnut growled lowly in her throat. "I also warned you. So how about this for your…motivation? You don't fuck with my soldiers, and I won't peel your skin and use it to polish my teeth? Dried skin works so nicely to get blood and gore from them…"

Atali felt a small creeping sensation of horror move up her spine at Ruffnut's words. She had to believe that the Scalebinder wouldn't do such a thing but…she also knew that she was one hundred percent _capable_ of doing such a thing. Although she had only seen the fairly benign bits of Ruffnut's personality, she couldn't deny that scalebinders were terrifically powerful beings. Nearly immune to fire, insane healing abilities, not to mention the breed specific abilities granted by their blood. To oppose them…nearly impossible for anyone who was merely human. Viri, all pretense of arrogance and superiority gone, visibly shook in clutches of the angry hybrid.

"I-I am sorry, Grandmother! Please…please, help me!"

Ruffnut cackled, a draconian mixture of hissing and chortling before her glare was back on the young woman. "The only reason that you are not already dead is that I believe that you are needed for this ritual." She said lowly, with finality in her voice. With those words, she dropped Viri to the dirt and came to stand next to Atali. Her older sister crawled through the mud to her grandmother's feet, her head still bowed and her face marred with dirt and streaks from her own tears. Matriarch Tania kneeled down and whispered something to her, and Atali winced at the sudden cries that came from her as the male sorcerer led her away.

The Matriarch looked unbothered. "Thank you, Ruffnut, for your mercy. We do not actually require her for this ritual. I am certain that Viri will always remember this lesson. Now, in order to begin…" She turned and began to give instructions to Atali's other sisters. All around the town, soldiers were soon hurrying about, many of them taking vast quantities of dirt, sand, and rocks to create a large sigil on the ground in the main square. Without surprise, Atali noted that five large sacks of salt had been brought out and were sitting near the center of the sigil. The most basic understanding of demonology could tell one that salt was a natural deterrent to demons and was a crucial reagent to any demon related ritual.

Tuffnut came up to them, his head turning to see all of the work being done. "Wow. Some ritual huh?"

Ruffnut nodded. "It better work. If it doesn't…I don't even want to consider it. Where is Snotlout?"

Tuffnut jerked his head towards one of the homes. "Been lazy as hell every since we got here. Hasn't left that house."

Ruffnut glared over at the building and growled as if the wood and stone structure had somehow aided in the lazy disposition of the red-scaled man. "Doesn't he have any concern for Astrid or Fishlegs? The bastard."

Her brother shrugged, shaking his head. "He does. I think he just doesn't want to face the reality of losing them. He wants to put on a show that he's macho, remember?"

Atali scoffed at that. When the others looked at her, she couldn't resist looking down in embarrassment. "What?" Ruffnut queried.

"Why would a _Scalebinder_ need to look or act macho?" She explained quietly. The twins shared a silent look that lasted all of ten seconds before they burst out laughing. Atali blushed harshly in embarrassment before sputtering. "What!? What did I say?"

Ruffnut halted her laughter to try and explain, but she broke out again and couldn't. Tuffnut managed some better control and spoke. "Let's just say that Snotlout hasn't ever done too well with scalebinder women. He likes that he can show off to normal women. That's why." At the words, Atali burst out in laughter, so much so that a tear came to her eye. Before long, the other two joined her in that laughter. Together, they enjoyed the bare moment of humor. When it ended, and they had regained control, a silence extended.

"Are you scared?" Tuffnut asked, glancing over. Atali closed her eyes, really not wanting to say anything about it lest she lose her nerve. Ruffnut only hummed quietly.

"It's alright if you are. That is a venom that would kill us…and you're taking it of your own will." She said. "We don't know what it will do to you. This is your last chance. We won't hold it against you if you choose to back out."

Atali considered it. For a bare moment, she considered accepting her grandmother's offer and living a boring, disgraced, pain-free life at home at the estate. She would have to deal with a lifetime of embarrassment and ridicule, sure, but she wouldn't be dying from a horrible venom. She could live in relative peace. No drill sergeants. No weapon training. No long marches on sore feet. Such a…calm life. She would never have to worry about death…but was it worth it all? Was it worth turning her back? Inside, she wanted desperately to leave and go home. To save herself. She continued to tell herself that even if she did leave though, she would never forgive herself and move on. She would be forever haunted by her choice to be a coward.

"I made my choice." She said firmly. "I will do this." Tuffnut have Ruff a grin and a nod and walked away with a few words of encouragement towards Atali. Ruffnut did not say anything to her, but stood there with her for a good hour before finally, things were beginning to calm down. The large main sigil had been marked out surrounding the inferno of the brazier, salt placed at every central point on it, along with other magical reagents. In a smaller sigil sat Atali, her legs crossed and her hands placed palm side up on them. In her right palm sat a small pile of salt. The palm of her left hand had been cut with a blade and left open to the air.

Between her and the brazier sat her grandmother and two of her sisters, and they were already beginning a chant. She knew enough about ritual magic to know that it could take anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours t get the appropriate amount of magical saturation in the air for the magic to ignite. Nearby, the scalebinders stood, even Snotlout having emerged for this event. To say that he and the others looked uncomfortable was the understatement. They continued to flick their eyes from Atali to the trio of Tania and Atali's sisters to the brazier and back. It had to be harsh for them, waiting to find out if the ritual would work.

Even more mysterious was the figure of Night Fury. He stood beside the scalebinders, as silent as ever, his hooded face betraying nothing. She had assumed that he would be here to see, but what she did not guess is that he would be here armed. Others had their weapons, yes, but he was the only one who had them drawn. A small part of her wondered why he had his swords in hand for this, but she shook it off. She had to focus on the here and now, and that here and now was the ritual that was slowly taking form in front of her.

For nearly a half hour the chanting continued before the air suddenly sizzled and cracked, the magic saturating it beginning to be too much to contain. When the cracking reached a thunderous climax, her grandmother suddenly threw her arms into the air, screaming something entirely different from what they had been chanting up to that point. The words faded away in the crackling energy the began to emerge from the air around Atali. Her vision tunneled, all the things to the sides of her view disappearing into a haze as her mind was assaulted by the sheer amount of magic bombarding her. The center of any sigil was like the eye of the storm…except the storm was harshest at the center.

Her vision seemed to pass straight through her grandmother and into the flames of the brazier, the flickering tendrils of the flame beginning to change color as the magic pulled at them. Time fell away, and what felt like hours could have been seconds as even the details of the brazier faded away until she could only see large tendrils of magical energy. These tendrils extended down into what she knew was the brazier and emerged from where she knew her grandmother sat. The only other thing she could discern with her vision was two swirling masses of black…miasma. The undulated straight ahead of her, and inside she knew that this was the venom running through the veins of her scalebinder commanders.

As her mind decided that, the tendrils of magic, glowing a luminous blue, suddenly shot straight into her body through the cut in her palm. She opened her mouth in an anguished yell, but she could hear nothing except the beating of her own heart. When she opened her eyes again, tears at the edges of her vision, she saw the other ends of the tendrils penetrating the black masses. Her heart began to beat faster as the black miasma crawled over the tendrils, slowly but surely coming for her body. She could tell nothing of time. Nothing of what was happening anywhere else. She couldn't tell if the ritual was going well or not. She couldn't tell if the world still yet existed outside of this moment.

The venom crept along the magic as slow as a dying slug, yet faster than a diving hawk. She both welcomed it and feared it. She did not know if death rode along the magic with the venom. She did now know what pain would come with it. Would her veins burn like Nadderfire? Would she grow cold, as cold as the frozen north without protection from the chill arctic air? Would her body eat itself away trying to ward off the unnatural intruder? She didn't know. She couldn't know. She wouldn't know.

All she would know is that she had accomplished only two things in this moment. She had accomplished two things that she wanted to. She had defied her grandmother. She had burst free of the shackles off disgrace and petty familial hatred. She was making her own choice in this moment. She was choosing to do this. She wasn't being pushed. She wasn't being told that she had to or fear the consequences. She was making this choice freely. And she was freely decided to sacrifice herself to save Commander Hofferson and Fishlegs. Would she be remembered for this in the days, weeks, months or even years after? She did not know. She did not need to know. In Valhalla, amongst the gods and the dragons, she would know that what she had done made a difference.

* * *

Again, super sorry for how long I took to update. Life got perty busy there for a bit. Enjoy!


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry for the delay. I have to take a good amount of time to write these chapters so that they remain appropriate to the tone of the story. Enjoy. The dovahzul in this chapter is not all defined for you. That is because some of it needs to remain unknown for story purposes. Again I will ask that you do not go and look it up.

* * *

Luminescent light. Why could she see luminescent lights? The last she remembered…she couldn't remember. Where was this? Where was she? Who was she? This sudden burst of life and simply _being_ seemed like something entirely new. She floated over an ocean of glowing light, all the colors she could possibly imagine whipping by as she…floating? Flew? Glided? A strange mix of all three maybe? The sensation was euphoric to ever her addled mind and hazy vision. Her body felt weightless, and her dim awareness of the world other than sight was slowly increasing. Had she fallen asleep at some point? Was this a dream? Maybe…certainly felt like it, but this was unlike every other dream she'd ever had. Most of her dreams revolved around…well…something, but it wasn't this. At least she thought it wasn't this. Why couldn't she remember anything?

Huge stalactites fell from where she assumed the ceiling of the space she floated through was, and stalagmites speared up from the abyss below. She couldn't see the ground or the ceiling, that was for certain. The bases of the massive rocky spears descended down to a point where she could no longer discern any details, and above her went so high that things sort of just faded into nothing. All around her, things floated in the air and shone like stars. She couldn't tell if they were actual lights or if they were creatures of some sort. Her flight path, because that was the best way that she could describe her travel, carried her forward into the space.

It felt like forever that she floated, though nothing changed in what she could see. Rocky spears, glowing lights, and a world of color all around her. It was quite…therapeutic almost, though even as she thought of the word, she couldn't place its meaning. It just seemed like the right word to describe what she was going through. To that end…why couldn't she really…think?

" _Hi dreh ni gelon het." (1)_ The grating sound of the unmistakable language hit her ears and she tried her best to turn and writhe to find the source, but she couldn't. She had stopped now and was simply floating still in the empty air. She fought against a rising tide of fear in her belly and swallowed hard. She tried to speak, but something kept her voice silent. Her mouth opened, but nothing except quiet grunts emerged from her.

" _Hi dreh ni gelon het!"_ The voice demanded, most insistently. She fought against the invisible bonds of her captor harder now. Her body twisted as she tried to break free of the force that held her in place. Finally, after a mighty shove of her muscles, she felt herself break away from what held her. In the air, she turned her body to stare into a black mass. Not black as in a creature floating before her. No…this was black in entirety. Two massive eyes glared at her through the darkness. They had to be at least a big as she was, if not much larger. How she had not noticed such a creature before this point was a mystery.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her world suddenly shook and her vision spun. The eyes before her narrowed as they approached her, their huge size growing yet larger. She pushed away from it, but she was held once more. She struggled against the bonds, hey eyes growing in dread and fear as the gargantuan slits moved towards her. In a flash of a second, a massive mouth had opened wide and swallowed her whole.

XXX

The men sat in a semi-circle around their Commander, who, for better language there couldn't be, was angry with the world. For three days and three nights Commander Hofferson had worked herself to the bone. Pushups. Sit-ups. Literally any sort of activity that required physical strength to complete, she was doing it without stopping. The men had initially been terrified of it, but a few select situations had proven to them that the Commander was simply making up for lost time. And perhaps a bit of training was necessary. They all knew that she had been under the effects of poison. It had to have wreaked havoc on her. The fact that she could do so much so soon after the ritual was testament to her strength.

The overall feelings of the troops was very positive, despite a few tense days. The entourage from Mystic Spire had departed the day after the ritual had been completed, the Matriarch rushing her people out of her faster than the eye could see. Although it was a curious thing, it was fairly clear to everyone that they weren't comfortable here. The cloaked man, Night Fury, had remained silent for much of the time since the ritual, simply watching both Commander Hofferson and Fishlegs.

"When do you think she will slow down?"

"Never. The Commander will keep going until the worlds ends. And then some!" The men laughed as the soldier, a member of the Commander's personal squad, sang her praises.

"How does she do it? How is she not, you know…broken?"

"Dragon-blood idiot. They can do things with their bodies that we could never even dream of!"

"Yeah, like snap a man's neck with her cunt!"

"I wouldn't recommend talking about that," Ruffnut laughed, coming to stand beside them. The men regarded her with warm smiles and greetings, though the one who had spoken looked unsure of himself. Ruffnut only shrugged. "Just warning you. Astrid is the only one of us who has never had sex."

The men mumbled amongst themselves quietly and more than a few turned lustful eyes on the Commander. Ruffnut smirked inwardly; Astrid was only wearing a tight pair of a trousers and a sleeveless vest, which didn't help with the looks she was getting. "Well, don't get too excited boys. I doubt any of you would even be a glint in her eyes."

"Is she that picky, Ruff?" One of the man asked. She shook her head.

"Not at all. She just wants a man who would _survive_ a night with her." Ruffnut laughed loudly when their faces blanched and the looks turned to abject fear. Although, she did notice one or two smile a bit wider. Some men like a rough ride, she supposed. She left the men to wonder about Astrid and her sexual practices, knowing that some of them might be dumb enough to actually ask the Commander for a night of passion. Scalebinders saw sex in a…different light than normal humans. Scalebinder sex was normally a rough, intense experience. Sometimes it involved shifting, fire and even scaley acts that would seriously harm a normal human. Of course, she knew that Snotlout had lain with plenty of non-scalebinder women before. She supposed it could be something that she could share with a human man but…maybe she would have to be gentler than normal.

She was in a better headspace now than she had been a few days prior. With the poison out of the veins of Fishlegs and Astrid, the chance of certain death was no longer present. At least for them. The two of them had woken up not terribly long after the poison had been removed, the advanced healing nature of the dragon-blood helping them along greatly. Both were now in quite different modes of recovery though. Fishlegs had pored over documents and battle manuals since he woke. Astrid had not stopped moving since she woke up. Two very different approaches, but they were both getting better quickly.

A thought that brought her to the more sobering of things going on right now. Atali Maidenwing and her sacrifice to accept the dragon-killer poison into her veins. The days since the ritual had been odd where she was concerned. Some days, the girl went as white as snow, with the black venom in her veins clear as day underneath her skin. Other days, she burned with a fever almost as hot as Astrid's Nadderfire. Then she would grow cold. Then, on the worst of times, she writhed like a serpent being skinned alive. Her kicks, punches and screams had been enough to harm a normal person. Then…the weirdest moment had come the day before.

She had spoken dovahzul. Ruffnut had been there, watching over her, when it happened. To her dismay, what little she knew of the old language was not sufficient to understand the words, but she could recall them. She ran off and told Night Fury, demanding that he tell her the translation of the words, and again to her dismay, he chose not to. He only grunted and said that they needed to keep an extremely close eye on her. Ruffnut still didn't know what he meant by that, but she wouldn't question him any further. She'd long ago learned that demanding answers from him only resulted in more frustration.

So, she and the other binders had made sure that at least one of them was at Atali's side at all times. They would risk nothing happening to her, because she was now one of them. She carried something in her veins that was unnatural. She had willingly made the choice to accept death, or potential death, to save one of their own. It was a sacrifice that would stay with Ruffnut and her friends for all time.

"How is she, doc?" Ruffnut asked, entering the room where Atali had been kept since the ritual. The sheets were new, having been switched out every few hours. During her intense sways of temperament and ailment, Atali had always sweated profusely. So much so that the doctor had made sure that she gets water every few minutes to replace the fluids she had lost thus far.

"Quiet today, Ruffnut," The doctor said amicably. The older man was certainly not like the other soldiers when it came to the scalebinders. He had treated them many times for injuries related to Night Fury. "I almost want to hazard a guess that she is improving."

Ruffnut sat down next to the bed and crossed her legs. "Dangerous guess doc. Sure you want to do that?" There was a hostile glint in her eye when he looked over, but to his credit, he only shrugged off her anger. She, along with the other binders, wanted Atali to survive. Anything that might get in the way of that was not something they wanted any part of. A doctor taking risky guesses was fairly high up on that list.

"I said 'almost'." He replied. "Her temperature is normal, breathing is normal and she has not thrashed or struggled since late yesterday."

"And the dovahzul?"

To this, the doctor's eyes shifted away from Ruffnut. "When did she do it again?" Ruffnut sighed. It would appear that although the other symptoms had faded, that little phenomenon was continuing.

"Not more than an hour ago she said some words. Not yelled or screamed, but as you and I speak now."

"Do you remember them?"

" _Sossedov hahnu miraad_. She said that probably four or five times. Do you know what it means?"

Ruffnut shook her head. "I don't…but Night Fury will. I'll go find him." She rose from her seat and left the room as quickly as she had entered. She would go back soon, but every clue had to be figured out as soon as possible. Night Fury would know what the words meant. Now she just had to make sure that he told them what it meant.

The small village that had become their temporary base of operations was small, but that didn't mean that it was packed to the brim. Night Fury was always easy to find in the area, as long as one knew what to look for. As soon as she stepped out of the house that bore Atali, she knew where their mysterious companion was. A large circle of troops around a roped off ring, hooting, hollering and placing bets drew her attention. As did the furious roars that were undoubtedly those of her twin brother.

And she was right. She stepped through the throng of soldiers to find her brother in a training spar with non-other than the black cloak wearing Night Fury. She took a moment to admire the fight, from an objective standpoint. Her position as a weapon master within Berk society was not something that could be achieved easily. That both she and her twin brother achieved the same rank within their young lives was a fairly large achievement in and of itself.

Tuffnut was a slight bit different than she was though. While her approach to combat was heavily based within effectiveness vs. efficiency vs. applicability, her brother approached combat in a far more fluid style. Tuffnut believed that his style of fighting was always about flow and ebb. To him, fighting was a dance that you needed to understand to it's fullest extent before it became an art form. To her, his style was horribly inefficient. Lots of wasted energy through techniques that require constant movement, spins, leaps, rolls and feints. Although she believed it to be a waste of energy, she couldn't help but admit that his particular style, from a combat view, was beautiful. He was measured and careful, fluid and unpredictable, but stable and even. He balanced berserker style offense with bulwark defensive strategies like mixing liquids for a fine drink.

A hard slash from Night Fury sailed over his head as he rotated his body horizontally, flipping his blades in his hands expertly to throw a stab at the belly of his opponent. Night Fury rolled away from the move himself and slammed a hard right handed punch into Tuffnut's side. The move drew all sorts of cheers from the assembled, and Ruffnut only shook her head as her brother barely even noticed the move, melting into another assault once he'd landed.

"How long has this been going?" She asked one of the soldiers. She shrugged.

"I've been here for fifteen minutes and it had already begun." She replied.

Ruffnut accepted the explanation and returned her gaze to the melee. Judging by the lack of serious injuries on Tuff, he'd done fairly well thus far. It didn't seem like Night Fury was holding back anything, and there was only a single serious cut on Tuff's body. Usually, five to ten minutes was all they lasted before Night Fury had them done in. To date, Fishlegs has been the only one of them to ever really land a blow on Night Fury, and he'd damn near killed himself to do it. She felt like she was close a few times but…he was an enigma.

She watched and waited…and waited…and waited. Tuffnut was lasting superbly long against Night Fury this time, and she watched closer and closer as it went longer. It didn't look like Night Fury was letting him last on purpose…but at the same time, she could see that the cloaked man was not pressing every advantage that he got.

She was about to intercede in the fight so she could get her answer when a sudden horn echoed around them. Tuffnut and Night Fury halted, as did every other soldier. When the horn echoed away, all she heard was someone yell. "It's the King!"

XXX

Astrid lined up the troops in as efficient a manner as she could manage with such short notice. Granted, some of the men were not in complete gear, but that was not a terrible thing. The King had come unannounced?! Why didn't the scouts report back about his entourage? Astrid didn't have time to question these things as she and the other binders prepped to receive royalty. They wore their armor, Fishlegs unfortunately still bearing the holes from the dragon-killer demon's wrist spines. Once down, they waited. All of them arranged into their squads and looking like a polished military platoon. A part of Astrid was frustrated that yet another thing had been dropped onto them, but another part of her was glad. She could finally meet the King. As they stood and waited, another sound echoed out into the air. A sound that put Astrid and the other Scalebinders on a whole new level of anxiety. That roar was unmistakably powerful.

Stoick and the older Scalebinders from Berk had accompanied the King.

It was a revelation that brought with it startling clarity. They had missed the Thing, but more importantly, the King and Stoick had to know that the Astrid's group had demanded a meeting with Mystic Spire. Tania would never have gone without notifying the King of her absence in the tower. Also…what would they think of the way things had happened? What would they think of the dragon-killer demon? What would Stoick think of Night Fury?

"Did you know they were coming?" Fishlegs asked quietly, leaning over towards Astrid.

"No!" She hissed. "Why didn't the scouts report seeing them?" She hissed again, this time leaning over towards Snotlout.

"I don't know," He replied calmly. "Nothing we can do about it now."

Astrid wanted to berate the lazy idiot. She wanted to rant and rage and maybe even try to kill him a few times, but she didn't have time to do that right now. The horn blasts were growing much closer now, and that meant that the King would be in their presence in a short time. More importantly though, Stoick would be here and that was the thing that worried her the most. She had only just recently woken from the poison slumber that was thrown upon her by the demon. She looked ragged and tired, and she did not want to seem weak to the strongest Scalebinder of them all.

As was expected, the first thing to come into view for them was the massive form of a dragon, though it was not the dragon they were expecting. Astrid glanced to her side as the massive grey dragon came into view. Sharkshand Ingerman lumbered, his massive feet slamming to the ground and the spines all over his hide stabbing skyward in a forest of bone. Quakenblood ran through his veins, and he was the largest living Scalebind shifter.

Astrid cast a worried glance at Fishlegs, knowing that the holes in his armor might draw some issue with his father. To her surprise, he did not look concerned. He wore a small smile on his face, his arms clasped in front of him on the pommel of his warhammer. Behind Sharkshand came the royal entourage, marching in time with each other like they had been born to do nothing less. The royal guard was a squad of fifty men and women, all trained to the height of their capabilities and extremely disciplined. Their shining armor stood testament to their loyalty to the king. If he was threatened, there was nothing they were barred from doing to ensure his safety.

Their front line stopped in front of Astrid and her troops, the lines behind them stopping in time as well. The soldier in the very front, a man who wore some regalia signaling command, turned on his heel and faced his troops without speaking. They organized themselves with practiced precision – they'd probably done this exact drill a thousand times this month alone – into two columns and planted large square shields on the ground in front of them and racking their spears against them in a passage type formation.

"Look at these idiots," Snotlout mumbled. "Who has time to practice for this kind of shit…"

Astrid growled at him. "People who defend the king!" She hissed. "Shut up and don't say a word!"

The troops did not say anything, did not move even a little bit, didn't even make a move towards their commander, who also had not moved. In a way, the military tradition and training here was a sight to behold. She wouldn't ever say that she couldn't appreciate such military prowess and precision. Even if this was the King coming to see them for some unknown reason, and that worried Astrid. The King hardly did anything without announcing it first. Why was he here suddenly?

In the next few minutes, the Scalebinders and their troops bore witness to a small ceremony in which the King's carriage arrived, he was announced by a steward and the Kings Guard presented their spears to him. When finally the man himself stepped out, Astrid and her friends stiffened. His normally suave, smooth hair that was normally done up in royal styles was now down in long dreads. He had forgone royal regalia and instead wore a simple leather harness, along with a dark cloak that draped over his left shoulder. His arms were adorned with studded bracers and arm pads, all looking like he was preparing for mortal combat.

Astrid's eyes hardened when someone else stepped out of the carriage behind him. She was tall, but pale; long black hair framed an almost supernaturally beautiful face. She wore the dress expected of royalty, adorned with silk clothing, bangles, bracelets and other golden jewelry jangled on her arms while an ornate necklace graced her neckline. She stepped timidly down the steps, grasping the King's outstretched hand to balance herself.

The two of them walked forward through the tunnel of presented spears, nobody making a single sound while they did. Although the soldiers of Dragonoa were heavily loyal to their generals and many had gone their entire lives without seeing the King, all of them knew that this moment was one they would cherish and revere. The King of Dragonoa was the very reason they stood against the tide of the demons. The reason they spent their entire lives training to defend the blue. They would all die for him, without a moment's hesitation.

Astrid took a glance over beside the lines of the Kings Guard. Standing there, having both shifted back to human form, stood Sharkshand and Stoick. The chief of Berk stared back at her, but not with the disappointment she expected. He stared at her in admiration and a bit of pride, and a nod came her way. She returned her gaze to the King, feeling slighty better about this meeting. If Stoicks gaze had been more dire in nature, then she would have worried. Though…the King's words shook her enough that it didn't matter.

"Scalebinders!" His rough voice spread over everyone gathered. "I commend you. You fought and defeated an incursion into our lands by the demonic monsters of the despicable nation of Blackreach! You have fought bravely, but I come to now to tell you that you need to turn around and go back west! From this point forward, we are at war! We will put an end to the demons and claim our world once and for all!"

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Thanks for being patient with me. Hopefully I will have more chances to write in the coming weeks.

1\. _Hi dreh ni gelon het_ – You do not belong here


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